


Company

by TwoKinkyBeans



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: A lil dark, Adult Peter Parker, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bargaining, Blood, Chronic Illness, Dark Woods, Diabetes, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Repressed, Fae & Fairies, Fae Magic, Fae!Tony, Hand Jobs, Ill!May, Illnesses, Loneliness, M/M, Magic, Masturbation, May has diabetes but no access to medication, Mischief, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pagan!MJ, Paganism, Peter Parker is a Little Shit, Touch-Starved, Touching, Vanilla, human!peter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:21:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27291868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwoKinkyBeans/pseuds/TwoKinkyBeans
Summary: “I know you need a miracle right now to help with all of this and- well, I don’t really know anyone who’s good at that kinda stuff, but... “ MJ scoffs an awkward laugh before continuing. “I mean, the help of a Fae would be nice, but it’s not that those just show up if you ask them to.”“A Fae?” Peter chuckles, though his eyes don’t spark. “Like Puck? From the play we had to do at Summer camp?”“Sort of, yeah!” MJ grabs Peter’s other hand and places both of them on his knees, resting her own on top. “But I’m playing with you, Pete.“It’d be a stretch to find one willing to help,” MJ said. Lucky for Peter, he is quite flexible.Or: May's health is deteriorating fast and Peter is running out of options (and money), so he goes into the woods at night on Halloween to find a Fae willing to help him out.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Comments: 36
Kudos: 85





	1. Samhain

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! Welcome to my new multichapter fic! I've been wanting to write this fic since we were working on Jar of Dirt (which was like half a year ago, whoops). Originally, Kim was going to be writing for this too, but with her large to write list we decided to take some pressure off her shoulders, so she's going to focus on those! Kim has wayyy more knowledge on Paganism than I do, though, so she will be beta reading my fic on all the folklore, etc!
> 
> For every chapter there will be a poem teaser. These will be on Tumblr!
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

“If it makes you feel any better, I could do a ritual for her?” MJ’s words struck a chord with Peter. He knows she’s always reserved about her Paganism, aware that it’s not a conventional religion. So, this came as quite the surprise.   
“I-” Peter is at a loss for words as he sinks down into the sofa, eyes locked on the dried, bloody patch in the cushions. This means a lot to MJ, which, in turn, means a lot to Peter. Her connection with her beliefs is strong and deep. She doesn’t say something like this to just anyone. “Yeah…” he sighs, absentmindedly tracing the stain with his index finger. “I’d appreciate that.”   
  
Peter hates how formal his reply sounds but MJ smiles encouragingly anyways. She sits down on the floor in front of him and grabs his hand away from the patch of blood and the sour memory attached to it, to make him look down at her. Her hair is up in a messy bun, the flyaways frame her face playfully and she grins up at him. MJ’s been helping him clean the apartment the last few weeks with zero complaints whatsoever. All she said was:   
“One day, I’ll need your help and then you’ll be there for me too.” It’s true. He’d do anything for her, as he would for Ned. And  _ May _ . About two months prior, May had suffered a hypo so severe she had to be taken to the hospital. She recovered enough that she could spend the rest of her time at home, but the damage had already been done. Not just physically. Peter had to sell pretty much everything worth anything that he owned in order to cover even a quarter of the bills. Both his and May’s savings had gone into the treatment and now they had next to nothing left, which posed another issue: the insulin.    
  
They wouldn’t be able to afford her medication for a while, which meant May was at a constant risk. She wasn’t strong enough to go back to work, but the fact that the meds weren’t there to help her with her recovery meant that it wasn’t going fast. On the contrary. She was deteriorating. But she also decided to keep that from Peter for as long as she could. She didn’t want him to worry about her, nor did she want him to take any other measures in order to get her her meds.    
  
Peter noticed, though. May always hated wearing her prescription glasses. But a little over four weeks ago, while Peter was studying at the dinner table, she asked him to fetch them for her. And even as the glasses were on her head, she still squinted- still brought the book further and closer, further and further. Her eyes were getting worse, but she blamed it on her age. Peter knew better. May knew Peter knew better.   
  
With the lack of money, good food was out of the picture too. Everything May would need to recover and live a healthy life was figurative miles away- out of reach. It was difficult to determine her body’s needs without the right equipment and she felt lifeless and tired most of the time.   
  
She started dropping stuff, accidentally. And her walk became stick-like. Her hands and feet were ice-cold, and she had to wear her mother’s old compression socks to keep her circulation under control. It became increasingly more difficult for her to run errands, though she tried. There was no way she was going to give up. And there was no way she was going to let Peter in on it, regardless of whether or not he noticed. He’d experienced enough loss, she wasn’t going to burden him with any more anxiety. However, the fact that she didn’t talk to him about it, even when he asked or confronted her, only increased his fears. His nights were sleepless. Restless. His mind ran with doom scenarios. What if. What if. What if.   
  
A few days before MJ first helped him with the cleaning, Peter found May on the sofa again, casually reading a book when he noticed her leggings around her ankles were a deep red colour. Not the khaki shade he’d seen when he left for uni that day.   
“May, what’s that?” He’d asked. When she lifted the book - which she was now reading with a magnifying glass - to follow Peter’s glare, she exclaimed a surprised:   
“Oh!”   
  
May aimed to get up from the sofa, but ultimately lost her balance and dropped back into it again. The sofa cushion was stained, just like her feet were. Peter immediately ran over to her and helped her compose herself but she broke down. Tears streamed down her face and the only words that she could utter were unneeded apologies and heavy-weighing regrets. She sobbed against Peter’s shoulder and it took him every inch of willpower not to lose himself to his sadness as well.    
  
Apparently, May went downstairs to grab the mail and on the back way up, she tripped, hitting the lower part of her ankles on the steps. She thought it was okay- that she was fine, but she couldn’t feel the wounds underneath her clothes. She hadn’t noticed the blood seeping out from them, not even when she sat down on the sofa and blurred her sight even further with the book.   
  
When she was calm again, after taking in all of Peter’s encouraging, hopeful words, he told her to stay seated so he could patch her up. He carefully took off one of the compression socks and tossed it onto the coffee table. It’d be easier to get the stain off of there than the light rug he was now sitting on. Her foot was freezing and he swallowed when he saw the damage on her ankle. He grabbed the first aid kit and cleaned her up. After her first leg was all ready, he moved on to her other. Gently, he pulled at the hem of the other compression sock, but before he could toss it onto the table, he spotted her pinky toe. It was darkening. Dying.   
  
That’s when Peter broke.   
  
“I know you need a miracle right now to help with all of this and- well, I don’t really know anyone who’s good at that kinda stuff, but... “ MJ scoffs an awkward laugh before continuing. “I mean, the help of a Fae would be nice, but it’s not that those just show up if you ask them to.”   
“A Fae?” Peter chuckles, though his eyes don’t spark. “Like Puck? From the play we had to do at Summer camp?”   
“Sort of, yeah!” MJ grabs Peter’s other hand and places both of them on his knees, resting her own on top. “But I’m playing with you, Pete. It’d be a stretch to find one willing to help.” Peter smiles, but he makes a mental note nonetheless. Not that he thinks Fae are real; that’d be kind of insane. “Anyways, what I wanted to say is that… Well, whatever happens, I’m here for you, ‘kay? And for May, too.”   
“Thanks, MJ.” Peter’s expression softens as MJ stands up.   
“Now, let’s finish up so I can go home and perform that ritual.” She winks and helps Peter to his feet. He’s not sure how to express his gratitude any further. Should he ask to be there? Or is it private? It’s not like he knows much about Paganism anyways. He’s interested, though.   
  
Peter is desperate, sure, but he never imagined he would be  _ this _ desperate. As soon as MJ is out the door, he grabs his notebook to scribble down everything he thinks he knows about Fae. Fairies- whatever. He even re-reads Shakespeare’s  _ Midsummer Night’s Dream _ , the play he had a part in last Summer. Puck’s lines- his lines- were still marked.   
  
_ “It’d be a stretch to find one willing to help,” _ MJ said. Lucky for Peter, he is quite flexible.   
  
…   
  
Peter knows it’s ridiculous. Fae can’t be real. It’s folklore. A story. Yet… Peter still finds himself seated behind the library computer that still runs on Windows XP, somehow. Every day, he tells himself he should stop looking up information on Fae. That he should study. Regardless of his attempts to set himself straight, his fingers still type the wrong things into the search bar.   
  
To say his obsession is bordering unhealthy is an understatement, to be honest. He just wants May to live a full and happy life. He wants May to  _ live.  _ And at this point he’s willing to try anything. He can’t lose her too; she’s all he has left.    
  
It’s nearly Halloween, or Samhain in the Pagan religion. On this day, the border between the world of humans and Fae should be relatively thin, which means the odds would be in his favor if he were to look for a Fae then. Samhain’s in two days, so there’s no time to lose. Every trick, every single thing that could harm Peter’s safety has to be ingrained in his brain. Yes, he would do anything to save May, but it’d be nice if he got to spend some time with her after.   
  
The most important things Peter noted for himself are “don’t accept anything from a Fae, especially not food,” “don’t listen to their music and definitely don’t dance with them,” and the one that Peter knew he would most likely slip on: “don’t give them your name. Under any circumstance.” Peter quickly decided that if any Fae asked for his name, he would just say his name is Ned, for a lack of creativity.   
  
…   
  
Samhain’s Eve, or Halloween. Peter squeezes his way into the train. He’s very grateful that the New York council had decided that students get to travel the subways for free. Otherwise, he’d have no idea how he would’ve gotten out of the city and into the suburbs. Towards the woods. May is with a friend tonight to give Peter some breathing space, but the opposite is true. The anticipation has knocked the air out of Peter’s lungs.    
  
Peter manages to sit down next to a few kids, dressed up for trick or treating. He offers them a nervous smile, clutching his backpack against his chest. The journey out of New York seems to flash by as much as it takes an eternity. After about two hours of travel, Peter steps out of the last possible station and breathes in the cold October air.    
  
With an old fashioned map of the area and a thrifted flashlight, Peter finds his way into the woods. He knows he has to get off the paths at some point, but the mere idea frightens him to the core. He’s suddenly not so sure anymore if this was a good idea in the first place. Maybe… Maybe he should turn around? Settle on the couch and watch some bad horror movies? That’d surely be a lot safer than whatever he’s doing right now.   
  
Peter’s feet don’t stop, though. He keeps going forward, his mind telling him to go back, but his heart cannot refrain from reaching out for May. For answers. For hope, no matter how little he may have left. He can feel his blood pump through his body, experiencing how it grows heavy with every step he takes.    
  
The distinct ache of loneliness in his chest grows tighter and tighter. It’s cold, it’s dark, he’s alone. Utterly and indescribably alone. His eyes are fixated on the path in front of him. So much so, that he doesn’t realize he loses track of his map. Worst of all, he only gets back to his senses when the flashlight starts flickering dangerously.   
“No,” Peter whispers, shaking the tool. “No-no-no-no-”   
“Need a hand?”   
  
Peter yelps and turns, stumbling backwards until he trips over himself and collides with the harsh ground. He looks up at the man, now towering over him, hand outstretched. The flashlight is on again, lying next to Peter and illuminating the fallen leaves, creating a pattern against the trees just off the path. The stranger has a kind smile. He seems to be in his forties, hair still dark and crow’s feet enunciating his smile. Peter sighs exasperated, reaching forward to take the man’s hand until… No, wait, who is this man? Peter turns his head to grab the flashlight and when he shifts back to the man, it flickers again.   
  
Peter loses his breath when the man’s irises seem to light up in the short dark moments. The man’s smile doesn’t falter, even when Peter’s expression drops. On the contrary, the smile turns into a smirk and all that’s left for Peter to look at when the flashlight finally dies is a pair of intense, golden glowing eyes.   
  
“What’s a young sprite like you doing in these woods? At this hour?” The man’s illuminated eyes lower and lower until he’s at eye level with Peter, who’s still staring at him.   
“I-I... “ Peter takes a deep breath. “I’m looking for someone.” The man leans in closer, near-hovering over Peter’s body. Peter tries to move back, but the man follows.   
“Are they lost? Like you?” His voice is strangely beautiful. Deep.  _ Close. _   
“No, no- It’s... “   
“Do you have their name? If you give it to me, I can find them for you.” Peter’s nearly laying down now, the man’s hands caging him at his sides, but not touching him. In a flash of half confidence, Peter replies:   
“Are you a Fae?”   
  
A dark chuckle rumbles below the golden eyes that now squint with glee.   
“I am many things.”   
“I’m too, that doesn’t answer the question, though.”  _ Shit. _ Shit-shit-shit, why did Peter’s sassy side decide to show up when he’s in the clutches of someone who is definitely not human and could probably kill him without thinking about it twice. Instead of getting angry, the man laughs yet again.  
“Fair enough, boy.” The eyes pull back and Peter quickly scrambles until he stands, so that he can look down at the man this time. “I am what you say I am.” The man pauses as he stands up too. There’s a short shuffle and suddenly, a small fire appears in the man’s palms. The way it lights up his face is an odd combination between warm and creepy. “Does that frighten you?”   
“N-no.”   
“Your stutter betrays your lies.”   
  
Peter wants to protest, but the man suddenly raises his hand, eyeing Peter curiously.   
“Were you looking for me?” The man’s words send a chill through Peter’s entire body. He presses his lips on top of each other and fiddles with his fingers.   
“Maybe.”   
“So, yes.”   
“Yes.” The man smiles again.   
“And why were you looking for me?”   
“I’m not looking for you specifically.”   
  
“Ouch,” the man chuckles. “You’re looking to use my power.” Peter’s jaw tightens. It almost feels like an accusation. Like it’s hurtful to the Fae that Peter’s only there for that. Peter swallows. Now that he puts it like that, it does sound a little mean. “Why?”   
“It’s… It’s a long story,” Peter says as he looks down at his feet. The light of the fire in the Fae’s hands creates a bubble of light around them. They’re still surrounded by utter darkness, save for a few faint silhouettes of the trees around them.   
  
“I have all night.” The man nods, but stops halfway down, seemingly mulling something over. “What did you say your name is, again?”   
“P-” Peter barely catches himself. Simply saying the first letter of his name already makes him feel a strange, otherworldly tug at his heart. He can’t say Ned now. He already started the word. What name could he possibly give to the Fae? Peter composes himself quickly as the gears in his mind turn fast.  _ Fae. _ “Puck.”   
“Ha!” The man laughs bombustuously. “Fitting for a sweet and pretty young man as you. Though, you are not a Fae.” The man wiggles his eyebrows. “Or are you?” Peter opts to ignore the flirtatious compliment.   
“Am not. You and I both know I shouldn’t give you my real name.” Peter takes a deep breath, relatively pleased with himself for talking back. “You may call me Puck.”   
  
“Puck.” The Fae breathes in the name as he closes his glowing eyes. “I’ll call you Puck.”    
“And what should I call you?” Peter asks carefully. A playful smirk creeps up on the Fae’s face.    
“I go by many names in these woods. Some call me Inventor. Others call me Iron Man. You may call me Tinker.” Peter can’t help himself and bursts out laughing.   
“Tinker?” he repeats. “As in Tinkerbell?” The Fae sighs exasperated. It seems like he’s heard that before.   
“No.” He rolls his golden eyes. “I make things. I tinker. But I suppose you deem the nickname unworthy?” The flame in his hands grows bigger for a split second.   
“If you’ve got anything else, I’ll gladly call you that,” Peter chuckles. “Inventor… Iron Man. Wait, isn’t iron a Fae’s weakness?” The man laughs softly.   
“It’s why they call me it. I am one of the few who feels no effect from iron, or technology, for that matter.” The man nods at Peter’s pants. “So, the screwdriver in your pocket is quite a lousy weapon against me.” The playful smirk returns on his face. “Or are you just happy to see me?”   
“I- I-”   
  
Peter takes a step back, wide-eyed, and looks at the tool in his pocket. The man knew he had it on him. Peter shivers.   
“I like you, Puck,” the man says suddenly. He takes a step closer to Peter, who is stuck in place. The warmth of the fire in the man’s hand now reaches Peter’s skin. It’s… Nice. Comforting, somehow. “There is  _ something _ about you that I can’t quite put my finger on.”   
“I’m nothing special, sir,” Peter says politely, breaking eye contact and looking down again. “I’m just here to help my aunt.”   
“Your… Aunt?”   
  
Peter tells him the entire story. About May’s diabetes, without mentioning her name, and the inevitability of amputations and likely death if things keep going the way they are. The Fae listens thoughtfully, not breaking eye contact with Peter the entire time. The man doesn’t flinch, not even when Peter’s voice starts breaking and tears threaten to spill from his eyes.   
  
“I shouldn’t be this vulnerable with you,” Peter suddenly interrupts himself, attempting to swallow away the lump in his throat. The Fae finally changes expression. A kind smile spreads on his face and he nods.   
“A wise assumption.” The man cocks his head and rolls his shoulders, still looking down at Peter. “Though, I am not interested in tricking you right now. I prefer my catch on guard. I like a challenge.”   
“Good to know,” Peter sighs, tightening his jaw again in an attempt to stop his emotions getting the better of him.  
  
“Company.” The Fae’s voice is soft, nearly melancholic.  
“What?” Peter takes a small step back and frowns, quickly wiping away his tears with the sleeve of his shirt. The soft breeze glides between the trees and tickles his face. It makes the flame in the Fae’s hand dance. Peter blinks once. Twice.  
“I’d much appreciate it if, in return for helping your aunt, you keep me company.” If Peter knew any better he’d say there was a hint of desperation seeping from Fae’s words. Is he lonely? The spark of hope grows brighter in Peter’s chest. May might just survive, if the Fae doesn’t screw him over. Peter takes a second to ponder his words.  
“How long?”  
“Bargain for it, boy.”  
  
Peter sucks at his teeth and takes a deep breath. He has no idea what kind of price he has to pay. What’s normal. Though, about a week ago he didn’t even think Fae existed, so everything was a wild guess at this point.  
“I- I don’t know… What would you ask of me?” Peter fumbles, wrapping one hand around the index finger of the other and pulling at it absentmindedly. It’s a nervous tick he couldn’t seem to shake and it betrays his uncertainty.   
  
Suddenly, the Fae pushes into his space, making Peter stumble backwards again. He barely keeps himself from tripping over and the Fae cocks his head playfully.  
“You and I both know I’d rather have your name, but you won’t give that to me, would you?” His tone darkens and he orders. “Bargain.”  
  
“Two days. Consecutive. So, 48 hours?” Peter tries. A bargain means the Fae will start with a higher price. If they’re going to work to a middle ground, 48 hours might be a good starting point.  
“Two days?” The Fae sighs dramatically and raises the back of his hand to his forehead. “You wound me.” The Fae stands up straight again, putting the same hand on his hip and puffing his chest. The flame in his hand grows brighter and brighter. “Eight. Consecutive.”  
“Mh, three.”  
“Six…” The Fae’s tone is threatening somehow, but Peter won’t give in that easily.  
“Four, separate meetings, not consecutive.”  
  
The Fae’s laughter shakes the trees and there’s a mischievous glint in his eye before he continues.  
“Is that all you think your aunt’s precious life is worth, Puck?” Peter jolts and immediately shakes his head.  
“Y-You told me to bargain!”  
“Hmm… So I did.” The Fae steps closer to Peter, refraining from touching him, but Peter can feel his hot breath on his skin. The Fae smells of pine and Peter has to set his mind straight to look away from him. He didn’t realize he’d been staring straight into the Fae’s golden eyes. “I really do like you.” Peter shudders. The Fae then pulls back again and nods approvingly. “Four days it is. How about we meet every upcoming celebration up until Beltane?”  
  
Peter doesn’t know how to reply, so instead, he keeps quiet. His silence isn’t taken kindly, though. The Fae clears his throat and looks at Peter from behind his long lashes. He smirks.  
“Have we come to an agreement?” Peter isn’t sure whether or not he should say yes straight away. There’s something that’s still missing from this contract and the last thing Peter wants is to be tricked.  
“Your medicine has to work completely, otherwise the deal is off,” he states resolute. The Fae chuckles.  
“Clever boy,” the Fae sighs as he circles Peter. Goosebumps spread over the young man’s entire body. “I cannot cure an illness like hers, but I can ensure she does not suffer. I will help your aunt live a long, full and healthy life, regardless of the ailment she carries with her.” The Fae sniffs once and cocks an eyebrow at Peter’s reply.   
“Whatever means necessary?”   
“Whatever means necessary.”   
“Deal.” The Fae grins and tilts his head slightly.   
“Good boy.” Peter shivers and takes in a deep breath. That  _ voice _ . Those  _ words _ . They shouldn’t do as much to Peter as they actually do. He should be scared. Yet, this whole thing is kind of… Exciting, in a way… Invigorating.   
  
“Do you think you can find your way back?” The man asks, snapping Peter out of his thoughts. He looks around and into the darkness, which causes his heart to sink.   
“I’m not sure.”   
“You can say no, Puck. It’s alright,” the Fae jokes. “If you are comfortable with following me, I can lead you back to the nearby town.” Peter eyes the Fae cautiously. “A human town.”   
“With a train connection into New York?”   
“If I knew, I’d tell you. But a town is better than infinite darkness, isn’t it?” The man grins cheekily and gestures around. Peter looks into the dark, realizing that if he doesn’t agree, the Fae will leave him here alone. Without light.   
“Please, take me there?” His voice is smaller than he hoped it was.   
“Only because you asked so nicely.”   
  
Peter isn’t sure how long they’re walking. The man doesn’t say much, but Peter can’t help but notice he tries to keep the flame close to Peter to keep him warm. He’s kinder than he thought Fae would be, but there is a small weight of dread in Peter’s stomach. What if the Fae did trick him? What if he’s being led somewhere else? His worries fade when he spots a brick house in the distance. He releases the breath he’d been holding and turns to look at the Fae.

“Thank you.”   
“Of course,” the Fae replies. He seems lost in thought.   
“Are you okay?” Peter asks quietly. The man seems surprised by his question.   
“Yes, eh… It’s just been a while since I’ve… Well... “ The man frowns and looks away. “Nevermind.” He leans back on his heels and uses the hand that still carries the flame to point at the path ahead. “If you take a right after the first house, the road you’ll be on should lead you into town.”   
  
Peter stares at the man and the sad expression that is still on his face. It confirms Peter’s earlier thoughts. The man  _ is _ lonely. Peter bites the inside of his cheek. The Fae obviously doesn’t want to talk about whatever is bothering him, and since Peter doesn’t want to push him over any edge, he decides to leave it. For now.   
“Thanks.” He starts walking away from the Fae, but halts after a few steps. “Is there something small you want in return?” Peter replies. The man blinks a few times, confused. “You did help me.” Peter shrugs.   
“I... “ The man stops his sentence, purses his lips and frowns.   
“Ahh,” Peter smirks. “There _ is  _ something you want.”   
“You’re a cheeky little thing, aren’t you?” The man’s eyes giddily light up for a split second.   
“Only with people I’m comfortable around.” Peter replies without thinking. A soft “oh” falls from the Fae’s lips. Peter tries to lighten the mood. “Bargain for it,” he says. The Fae looks at him dumbfounded, but collects himself. It’s odd to see him suddenly turn shy.   
  
“Is a hug too much to ask for?”   
“A hug?” Peter repeats surprised. The Fae looks away rejected, so Peter continues quickly. “A hug should suffice.” Peter smiles as he steps towards the Fae. He opens his arms, but pauses. “Do… Do you want me to give you a hug, or do you want to… Take one from me?” Peter doesn’t know why he asked it. Obviously, he should be giving the hug in return for the directions. But something about how the man stood there, tells him differently.   
“May… May I?” Peter nods encouragingly and before he can even blink, he feels the Fae’s arms wrapped around his body. It feels strangely… Cold? One of his hands finds its way into Peter’s curls. The other presses Peter against him tightly. Peter is completely enveloped in the man’s presence. It’s comforting, somehow, to feel the Fae’s warm breath on his ear. The flame the Fae held has disappeared, but his hands are still tingling with heat, even though the rest of his body seems so cold.    
  
“Thank you,” the man whispers quietly. Peter has no idea how long he had been held in the Fae’s embrace, but he had to admit, he kind of didn’t really want to leave. He hasn’t had a hug like this since Ben died. He should let go, obviously. There’s still a small voice in the back of his head, telling him that this is a trick to make him stay. To make him say or do things that would result in him never being able to go home. But Peter can practically feel the man’s sorrow aching against his chest.   
“Of course,” Peter replies, once again mimicking the man’s words.   
  
The Fae finally pulls back, but he doesn’t yet let go of Peter. He seems to be looking for something in Peter’s eyes, but he can’t find what he searches for. Eventually, he clears his throat and lets go.   
“I’ll see you when Yule graces us.”   
“When’s that?” Peter asks innocently. The man smiles and cocks his head.   
“Around your Christmas.”   
“Ah,” Peter says with a nod. “Well, see Yule then.” Peter wiggles his eyebrows and finger guns. He’s about to hit himself in the head to condemn his stupidity, but what he doesn’t expect, isthe man bursting out laughing. The sound fills Peter’s heart with warmth. The Fae‘s laughter eventually dies down and then he nods at the path ahead.   
“I will visit your aunt soon, before this week ends. Thank you, Puck.”    
  
Peter grins and turns towards the town, continuing his journey home. After about ten feet, he stops again, though. There was a question nagging at his mind that he hadn’t yet gotten the answer to.   
“What  _ do _ I call you?” The Fae looks down at the ground between them and starts walking backwards.    
“Oberon,” he says softly. He smiles one last time before retreating into the dense woods. “You may call me Oberon.”


	2. Yule

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On a cold December’s day,  
> Our Peter makes his way.  
> Through the deep woods once again,  
> To meet up with his newfound friend.  
> Cautious and wary, he is still,  
> For possible tricks conjured at the Fae’s will.  
> Peter must remain awake,  
> Otherwise there are names at stake.  
> Will the 24 hours pass without concern?  
> Or is there something new, the Fae will learn?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to chapter 2 of this fic! There's not much to warn about other than that Uncle Ben's death is mentioned and a certain bully, well... Bullies. As one does, aha.
> 
> Enjoy! <3 <3

Oberon stayed true to his word. On November 4 th , Peter woke up to hearing May’s chipper humming in the kitchen. He stared at his ceiling for a while, simply listening to her sweet voice. He could hear the bacon sizzling in the pan, the smell of grease stinging the insides of his nose. A shaky breath fell from his lips as he blinked away the tears. The corners of his mouth curled up in a lopsided smile while he squeezed his eyes shut and silently thanked the Fae.  
  
It soon appeared May still had diabetes, as Oberon had said she would. She still had to watch what she ate, but whenever she needed medication of any kind, the next drawer or cupboard she opened contained exactly what she needed. Two Tylenols next to the water glasses when she had a particularly bad headache, insulin in the cutlery drawers before dinner… It was all awfully convenient, yet – strangely enough – no one questioned it.   
  
The large grocery store around the corner always seemed to have a discount running on the exact products May would need for her healthy cooking and soon enough May became energized again. Life returned to her and it suited her well. She was able to go back to work as a nurse and now, on December 21 st it was Peter’s turn to hold up his end of the deal.   
  
…   
  
“Oberon?” Peter calls out weakly. He feels so small surrounded by the tall imposing trees of the crowded forest. All is white, covered in snow, and Peter’s breath condenses in front of him, before he hides the bottom half of his face in Uncle Ben’s worn scarf. He squints, trying not to let the cold cut his skin, and wades through three feet high packs of snow.    
  
It’s three o’clock in the afternoon. He barely slept last night because of his nerves and after a near-full day of colleges, he’s already quite exhausted.    
“Oberon?” He tries again, using his gloved hands at his mouth to concentrate the noise. Peter turns as he walks while looking around, trying to find the figure, hugging himself to keep warm.   
  
After a long time of searching, Peter sits himself down against a tree with his legs pulled up. How could he ever find Oberon like this? It’s already starting to get dark. His eyes are still strained on the forest around him. He’s quietly frustrated with himself for not arranging a meeting point with the Fae. Maybe Oberon forgot?    
  
It’s cold. Peter’s feet have gone wet in his old sneakers and he shivers aggressively. This is no use. Freezing himself to death will do no one any good, but he also doesn’t want to leave. That would mean he didn’t hold up his end of the deal of spending time with Oberon, which will result in May losing access to her medication and newfound luck. Maybe if he-   
“ _ Puck _ ,” a voice whispers in Peter’s ear. The young man yelps startled and crawls away from the tree, looking up wide-eyed at Oberon, now towering over him. The Fae laughs gratuitously with his hands on his hips. When he’s done, he leans forward with a cocked head and a cheeky grin. “Found ya!”   
  
Peter scoffs amazed at the man’s mischief and scrambles to stand up. His breath is unsteady through his shivers.   
“Y-yeah,” he manages to push out with a grateful sigh. “You found me.” Now that Oberon gets to have a closer look at Peter, his smile falters.   
“You are cold.” It wasn’t even posed as a question. The Fae simply knows. It is rather obvious with Peter’s thrifted and weathered outfit. Peter is slightly stunned by the statement and his eye is drawn to the man’s body. He’s wearing an odd combination of weather appropriate and weather inappropriate attire. He is covered, but the fabric looks awfully thin.    
  
Peter nods weakly at Oberon’s comment and the Fae immediately pushes into his space, not allowing Peter to step away from him by caging the student between himself and the neighboring tree.   
“How long have you been searching for me?” The man’s eyes are intense, worry shaking his irises as he holds their gazes locked.   
“A while,” Peter says truthfully. “More than an hour.” He sucks at his teeth. “Maybe two.” Not even a second later, a flame appears between the two of them. Its warm glow envelopes Peter immediately.   
  
“I am so sorry,” the Fae confesses with twisted brows. “I was expecting you later today. Much like last time you visited. I never meant for you to go cold.” Peter blinks a few times, processing Oberon’s words before replying.   
“It’s okay. You found me.” A small smile creeps up on Oberon’s face. His voice is soft. Gentle.   
“I found you.” They stay there for a minute, simply staring at each other as their faces are illuminated by the pleasant heat of Oberon’s flames. “Would you…” Oberon’s voice trails off as he still looks into Peter’s eyes. The young man nods absentmindedly, no clue what he’s agreeing to, but it feels right, somehow… Wait.   
  
Peter coughs loudly to help himself snap out of it and he steps away from the fire. From Oberon.   
“Are you alright?”   
“Yes!” Peter yelps, startled by the crack of his own voice. “No! I mean-“ He nearly stumbles over again and it takes him a few seconds to regain his composure. “What did you want to ask?” Oberon opens his mouth and closes it again, seemingly taken aback by the question.   
“Did I…” He frowns and then nods. “Right, I- My house-“ he points away from them in the direction he had initially appeared to have come from. “It’s warm there.”   
  
“I shouldn’t follow you,” Peter says bluntly. He already nearly fell for whatever just happened- something that even Oberon didn’t realize he was doing, based on his reaction.   
“No, you’re right, you shouldn’t…” Oberon purses his lips and then makes another gesture with the hand that holds the flame. “But I do think it’s better to spend those twenty-four hours somewhere comfortable rather than out here, right?”   
“I think it’s safer for me if we just make a fire here,” Peter ponders out loud. The Fae’s face pulls together in discontent, glancing over Peter’s soaked pants.   
“No.”   
“No?” Peter parrots with a scoff.   
“You’ll freeze to death. I won’t have that.”   
“But-“

“And there are other Fae out there who aren’t…” Oberon looks away for a second to think his words over and sighs audibly. “…Like me.” Peter scoffs again.   
“Like you?”   
“Well-willing.”    
  
Peter frowns and pulls his head back a little. Oberon takes a deep breath and explains:    
“It is winter, Puck. This time of year, Fae who are part of Winter Court are particularly in their element.” He moves his flame from one hand to the other. “You should count yourself lucky no one else found you before I did.” Peter has read up on the different Courts, but didn’t expect them to be real. The Winter Court is considered to be malevolent and is often described as cruel and evil. If they are truly real, then Oberon was right. It would’ve been very bad for Peter if he had run into another Fae. Oberon breaks Peter’s train of thought. “For your sake, we have to go to my home.”   
  
Peter takes an uncertain step backwards, holding onto himself and eyeing Oberon with distrust. This might as well be a ruse to get Peter to follow him forever and that is not what he is here for. The Fae sighs agitated.   
“Fae cannot lie, Puck,” he says, raising his eyebrows. “I promise you that I have no ill intentions towards you and that I will not trick or harm you.” Peter’s features relax for as much as it is possible in the shivering cold.   
“You promise?” He wishes he sounded more confident. Oberon steps forward again, reaching out his flame-free hand for Peter to take.   
“I promise, with all my heart.”   
  
…   
  


“So,” Oberon says as he rubs his hands together, squeezing the flame before giving it space again. Peter stares at the man’s feet as they walk. Where Peter wades through the snow, Oberon simply saunters on top of it, as if he weighs nothing. A thousand cheeky Lord of the Rings references lay locked in the back of Peter’s throat. He keeps them there, knowing the Fae probably has no idea what it is anyways. “How is your aunt faring?” Peter takes a bigger step, the snow becoming deeper and deeper with every travelled distance.   
  
“She’s doing well again,” Peter replies with a smile. “All thanks to you.”   
“Ah-ah,” Oberon tuts, glancing back at Peter over his shoulder. “Thanks to  _ you _ .” The man points at Peter. The young man presses his lips on top of each other, clutching his upper arms in an attempt to keep the heat inside his coat. “If you had not gone looking for me, I would not have helped.”    
“I mean, yeah, but you did all the hard work.” Peter frowns, looking down at where his feet disappear in the snow. They ache with every step and he quietly hopes he gets to keep all of his toes “You could’ve said no.” The student stops and cocks his head.    
  
Oberon halts his walk as well, turning to look Peter in the eye properly. The wind picks up and it plays with Peter’s hair. He scrunches his face together at the cold air pushing against his skin.   
“Hard work,” Oberon scoffs, shaking his head before continuing his trek over the snow. “Subjective.”   
“It’s true, though!” Peter tries to rush after him, but the deep snow isn’t really working in his favor.   
“You, young man, need to give yourself more credit.”   
“Do I?” The Fae laughs out loud and spreads his arms.   
“We will be spending many hours together, Puck,” he chuckles, not looking back at Peter this time, but Peter can practically hear his giddiness. “I might just teach you a thing or two. Nobody knows self-love as I do.”   
“It’s not about-“   
  
“How are you doing?” Oberon interrupts him, swiftly steering the conversation away. “Still cold?”   
“I-“ Peter pauses and purses his lips. He has no idea how far they still have to go until Oberon’s home and though there is something unsettling about the uncertainty, the Fae is disarming.  _ Charming _ . Peter reminds himself that’s the whole deal about Fae. He’s supposed to make Peter feel comfortable enough to let down his guard- to slip. But he won’t. He can’t afford to lose like that. He can’t afford May to lose him, after everything they’ve been through. “Yeah. Still cold…”    
  
“And?” Oberon asks cheekily.   
“And what?”   
“Sounded like there should be an ‘and’ after that. And well, you know, something else, whatever your subconscious wanted to say.” Peter scoffs at Oberon’s bluntness and shakes his head.   
“Alright, fine, I didn’t sleep much last night so I’m tired.” The second the words leave his lips he grabs his mouth with his gloved hand.  _ Why _ did he say that? Didn’t he literally just tell himself he shouldn’t let down his guard?   
“You’re… Tired?” Oberon sounds like someone just told him he won the lottery, which only fills Peter with dread.   
  
“I mean, not really-“ Peter tries, but the damage had already been done.   
“You’re tired.” The Fae says one more time, confirming it for himself- both of them. His tone immediately changes to something soothing and Peter isn’t sure yet if he likes it. “That’s alright. I did not expect you to stay awake for me for a full day.”   
“I’m not sleeping tonight.”   
“Sure, you won’t.”   
“No tricks,” Peter reminds Oberon quickly, sucking at his teeth at Oberon’s sass.   
  
“As promised.” Oberon shows Peter a kind smile. “It is alright to be wary of me, but as I said, we will be spending quite some time together. The last thing I want for you is to be uncomfortable. Neither of us would enjoy ourselves if you fear your time with me. If you need rest, I would like you to take it.”   
“I know, but don’t you want me to be awake?”   
“I asked for company, Puck.” As Oberon says it, the flame in his hand burns a little brighter. “As long as you are with me, the clock ticks. Awake- asleep, it makes no difference.” Peter gently shakes his head, glancing at the shoulder straps of his energy drink-filled backpack.   
“Not gonna sleep.”   
“We’ll see, Puck,” Oberon sighs content. “We’ll see.”   
  
…   
  
Somehow, the rest of the walk is pleasantly silent. It’s not long before a hidden cottage reveals itself among the trees. It looks about ready to fall apart, yet it’s apparently still sturdy enough to survive the dire weather conditions. Oberon opens the door and lets Peter walk in first.  
“This is me,” the man says shyly. Peter looks around in awe. The space is more like a workshop than a home, but it’s still cozy. Quaint. There’s a fireplace in the corner and the room is lit by a few candles. Peter nearly dares to call it romantic.   
  
“Is… Is it alright?” The Fae holds his hands together, waiting for Peter to comment on his home. Peter simply walks around the space, admiring the clutter and the little knick knacks, the herbs hanging from the ceiling and the collection of pillows and blankets on the floor near the fire.  
“It’s lovely,” Peter sighs breathlessly. A proud smile spreads on Oberon’s face and he immediately moves to what Peter could only describe as some kind of stove.  
“I’ll make some tea, to warm you up.”  
  
“Actually,” Peter interrupts, almost feeling bad about it. “I shouldn’t be taking anything from you, so I brought my own food and drinks.” The young man pivots where he stands, showing his backpack and tapping the side of it.  
“Well, you should know it’s not smart to refuse anything a Fae offers you.” Oberon cocks an eyebrow, smiling victoriously.  
“Aha!” Peter exclaims softly with a grin, raising his index finger. “You haven’t offered me anything. You just said you were going to make tea to warm me up.”   
“Well, I-“  
“And since I have enough food and drinks with me to last 24 hours, I’ll be alright, thank you.” Peter swings the backpack off his shoulders and puts it down with a thud and a cocky smirk.  
“Such a smart boy,” Oberon laughs. “Then I will just make myself tea,” he pauses, eyeing Peter from the side. “While also trying to figure out how to get rid of that backpack.”  
“You wouldn’t dare,” Peter chuckles. Mischief sparkles dangerously in Oberon’s eyes.  
“Oh,” he sighs, licking his lips. “I would.”  
  
…  
  
After a little while of casual conversation and exploring the Fae’s humble home, Peter sits down at the fire. The snow on his clothes is starting to melt, so he decides to unzip his coat and take it off. The temperature here is pleasant anyways and his shoes are already drying by the fire. He shuffles a bit, quiet frustration rising in his chest when his arm gets stuck in the coat.   
“Hold on,” Oberon says softly, kneeling behind Peter and raising his hands. “May I help? No need to return with a favor of your own.” Peter stares forward, jaw tightened, trying to find anything untrustworthy in the Fae’s words. The frown on his face fades when he realizes there’s probably nothing wrong with what Oberon said. _ Probably. _   
_   
_ Peter nods carefully and twitches when he feels the Fae’s warm fingers against his neck, curling around the collar. Hiss shoulders slack and he lets himself be taken care of. Oberon also takes off Peter’s worn scarf and studies the holes in it for a few seconds. Then, he stands up swiftly, hanging the coat over his work chair, in Peter’s line of sight.  
  
Peter is startled when the man is suddenly behind him again, fingers gently caressing his shoulders.  
“What are you doing?” Peter whispers, trying to pretend the gentle kneading doesn’t feel like actual heaven to his stressed muscles.  
“I am helping,” Oberon simply replies.  
“You- but the coat?” Peter can feel Oberon’s grin in his neck, paired with his hot breath. It sends shivers down his spine. One hand pushes through Peter’s hair and Peter can’t help himself as he lets it fall back when the Fae’s hand has gone all the way through.  
“Never specified it was just about the coat.” Shit. The Fae massages a little harder, eliciting an unintentional gasp from Peter. “So tight…” Oberon whispers. Peter is slowly turning to putty. He wants to fight the attention, but he can’t help how good it feels to have his knots kneaded away. “So tired…”   
“Mm…”   
  
Peter’s head lolls forward and the sudden weight he has to catch has his eyes fly wide open. He gasps and pulls away from Oberon’s gentle hands, panting and shaking his head.   
“Wha-“ The Fae exclaims surprised.   
“You said no tricks!” Peter calls out offended. He then scrambles to snatch his backpack and clutch it to his chest, wrapping his legs around it as well. “You promised!” Oberon’s face drops. Peter expected him to be frustrated that his evil plan didn’t work out, but instead, he spots fear.   
“I didn’t mean to-“   
“You did! You were-“ Peter pauses to wave one hand haphazardly in Oberon’s direction. “-doing something to me.”   
  
“…Giving you a back rub?” Peter opens his mouth to give Oberon a snarky reply, but nothing comes out. He presses his lips together again and frowns with a pout. “I cannot lie, Puck, I can guarantee you that I used no magic.”   
“But…” The student looks around the house, searching for answers. “Maybe you did something else?”   
“I did not.”   
“No… No herbs? In the air?” Peter sounds uncertain and based on Oberon’s loud laughter, the scene has become rather amusing.   
  
“Are you hearing yourself?” Peter immediately makes himself smaller, embarrassed. “No, Puck, I assure you; all I want for you is to be comfortable. You are obviously exhausted. I am trying to help you unwind.” The Fae stands up to go back to his stove, where the water he put on is nearly boiling. He grabs a pot from the counter and fills it with the water. “As promised-“ He looks up at the dried herbs on the ceiling and takes bits from a few, smelling them before tossing them in the pot as well. “-no magic. No tricks. It’s just you and me here.”   
“Then why did you seem so happy when I told you I was tired?” Peter shuffles where he sits, slowly relaxing his muscles again, but still eyeing the Fae – who now walks back to where Peter sat earlier to sit down himself – cautiously.   
“Because I am weird and find sleeping humans fascinating, next question.” Oberon obviously doesn’t want to linger on the subject, which makes Peter want to ask further all the more.   
“Elaborate,” he says simply. Oberon scoffs, placing the pot down in front of him on the small table.   
  
“Okay, then,” Oberon sighs deep and turns to face Peter. Their gazes lock and the Fae rolls his shoulders before continuing. “Your face. 42 muscles, right?”   
“Right.”   
“They’re engaged and stressed. You tighten them for all of your expressions, for when you speak…” It’s quiet for a second as he ponders his next words. He uses his hands to enunciate. “Your smiles and your tears are all accompanied by the use of your muscles.” The Fae repositions himself where he sits, crossing his legs and leaning in slightly. “When humans sleep, they lose all tension. They relax and drop their masks.”   
  
“You think I wear a mask when I’m with you?”   
“You wear worry. I wish for it to fade.” Oberon cocks his head the other way, his expression is soft and kind. “It fades when you sleep.”   
“You’re saying it as if you don’t sleep.”   
“Fae do not sleep. Well,” Oberon pauses and sucks at his teeth, nodding left and right as he looks up. “Not like humans. We  _ can _ sleep and we do, but we don’t need it like humans do.”   
“So…” Peter looks down at his backpack, pressing his chin into it. “You want to watch me sleep?” He scoffs softly, but smiles. “That’s kinda creepy.”   
  
“Hey, I already said I’m weird.” Oberon shrugs casually and pours himself a cup of herb-infused tea. “You are very pretty, Puck.” The compliment catches Peter off guard and it has him sit up a little straighter. “Last time we met, when you cried, all I wanted was for your sorrow to leave. It is why I agreed on our deal- why I suggested company.” He puts the pot back down and gently nudges it away from him. He curls his fingers around the cup, holding it tightly. “I am a lonely man and you are a kid in dire need of some time to let go.” Peter’s shoulders relax again and he looks down, now awfully aware of the frown on his face. A frown Oberon just said he wants gone.   
  
“Lonely…” Peter mutters before looking back up at the Fae again. “You said there are others like you out there? Don’t you spend time with them?” Oberon immediately averts his gaze and takes another sip from his tea.   
“No.” He doesn’t say anything else, which naturally causes Peter’s curiosity to grow.   
“Why not?” Peter leans in slightly, placing his backpack next to him and scooting a little closer.   
“That is not important.”   
“Mmmmmmmmmmmm-it kind of is,” Peter says cheekily. Oberon pulls a face and cocks his head.   
“How so?”   
“Well, if you and I are – and I quote – ‘spending a lot of time together,’ then I think it’ll benefit both of us if we’re honest with each other?” Oberon immediately grins.   
  
“Then how about you start by telling me your name?”   
“Ha-ha,” Peter laughs sarcastically. “I meant it as in; you know all about me after last time, it’s only fair I get to know you too.”   
“I will tell you Puck,” Oberon sighs. “Just… Not yet. Not now.” The sparkle in his eyes surprisingly returns. “Besides, you are infinitely more interesting.” Peter scoffs.   
“Am not.”   
“Are too.”   
“How old are you?”

“Older than you think I am.”   
  
…   
  
By the time Peter’s clothes have finally dried, he is laying on the floor, staring at the ceiling. It kind of feels like he’s floating, surrounded by all the pillows and blankets. He’s comfortable and warm, yet also buzzing with his fourth can of Monster. He’s been chugging them one after another and part of him regrets raising his blood pressure and heart rate like this. Peter’s hands are folded into one another, resting on his stomach as he blinks in an attempt to keep his mind straight. Colors slowly fade together and the room seems to be vibrating. He can hear the beat of his heart thrumming between his ears and an occasional twitch prevents him from getting too comfortable.   
  
Oberon has left Peter to do some chores in and around the room. They talked for a few hours now and the man seems to understand Peter’s social battery has drained. Peter’s almost surprised how easily their conversations came when he let down his guard a little. Oberon seemed to stay true to his word and refrained from pulling any tricks. Now, he shuffles around the space, letting Peter alone with his thoughts. They have to stick together for the deal to work out, though.   
  
It’s not long before Peter swallows and closes his eyes, trying to regulate his breathing. Maybe starting that fifth can was a mistake. The room spins, even when his eyes are shut. He mumbles and his embarrassment about the situation makes him unsure if he wants Oberon to hear it.   
“I’m gonna-“ He can’t even finish his sentence before rolling over and catching himself, pulling up to hurl. Oberon is immediately at his side, offering a bucket for Peter to spill into.   
  
“There, there…” Oberon says softly, helping Peter through it by gently placing his hand on Peter’s head. “Was already wondering when your body would reject that chemical sugar bomb.” Peter squeezes his eyes shut and hides his face in the bucket to prevent Oberon from seeing his embarrassed red cheeks. He takes a minute to breathe before coming back up. He glances at his left and spots a wet cloth. He stares at it for a little bit, unsure of whether or not he can touch it. The Fae read his mind. “Take it. The water on it is warm.” Peter scoffs into the bucket in an attempt to conceal another gag. “What’s in it, chloroform?” Oberon chuckles above him.   
“If I really wanted you to sleep, you would’ve been out hours ago, Puck.” Peter smiles and shakes his head, but he does move to grab the fabric and clean his mouth.   
  
It takes a minute before Peter’s head is cleared again. He takes a shaky breath and turns to be met with Oberon’s intense stare. The Fae is leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees and hiding his mouth behind his hands to hold his head up. Peter raises his eyes questioningly, to which Oberon responds with a deep sigh as he sits up straight again.   
“What do I need to do to gain your trust?” Peter immediately looks away again, pressing his lips on top of each other and shaking his head slightly.   
“Dunno.”   
“Alright, alright,” Oberon says as he raises his hands and shuffles where he sits. “Remember that promise I made? The one where I said I wouldn’t trick you?” Peter’s eyes flick back and forth between the fire and Oberon.   
“Yeah…?”   
  
“I cannot break that promise, Puck. It would harm me if I did.” Oberon sniffs and shuffles closer to Peter, who can’t find the strength to move away. “Let me reiterate: I promise you that I have no ill intentions towards you and that I will not trick or harm you.” Oberon sucks at his teeth and raises his eyebrows. “Ever.” He glances at the fire, crackling softly, and continues. “That includes food and drink, song and dance, monologue and conversation. I will not use my magic to inflict pain on you, nor do I have any interest in your true name. I do not want it, though I may jest. I only want your company.” Sincerity drips from Oberon’s lips and it takes a second for Peter to realize he’s staring at them. At how plump they are, how soft they look… He blinks and turns away again.   
“I believe you.”

“Then rest.”   
“No.”   
“Argh-“ Oberon lets out a frustrated groan. “Your stubbornness is endless.” He stands up and makes his way back to the kitchen area to shuffle around some stuff.   
  
“I- I just don’t want to sleep, okay?” Peter crosses his arms and puffs. “Can’t you help me stay awake?”   
“Didn’t I literally just say I wouldn’t use magic on you?” Oberon shakes his head with a chuckle. Suddenly, he pauses his movement. “It is not me, is it?” His grin grows wider and he pushes his tongue into his cheek. “You don’t want to sleep because of  _ you _ .” Peter’s eyes widen in shock and he opens his mouth to say something, yet nothing comes out. The giddy sparkle in Oberon’s eye returns and he rushes to kneel next to Peter again. “What is it? Do you snore? Are you embarrassed because you snore?”   
“Wha- no, I don’t-“   
“Oh!” Oberon interrupts with his exclamation, smiling brightly with his palms on his cheeks. Then, he leans in, until Peter is sandwiched between Oberon and the wall. His excitement is endearing, yet Peter fears what Oberon will say next. “You talk.”    
  
Peter breaks eye contact and looks down, not wanting to face the Fae.    
“You talk,” Oberon repeats in a whisper. Luckily for Peter, Oberon notices his discomfort and moves back, returning the space to Peter. “Why does that bother you? Many people speak when they sleep.” Peter tightens his jaw, keeping his lips sealed. “I can keep filling in the blanks if you want, I am quite good at guessing. Or you can tell me yourself and we will find a way around it together.” Oberon’s remark has Peter sit up in surprise, dropping his shoulders.   
“Names.” This time, Oberon is taken aback. “I talk about my friends a lot. My family…” Peter pulls in his legs to hug himself. “I don’t want to give you names.”   
  
Oberon nods, pursing his lips.   
“I understand.” He sniffs and raises his eyebrows. “Though, I do need  _ you _ to understand that empty names do not have any effect.”   
“But they aren’t empty, they are people I know,” Peter counters.   
“But I do not know them.” A corner of Oberon’s mouth curls up. “There are so many people out there with the same name,” he explains. “You could exclaim any name, Jane, John, Patricia, Peter-” Peter’s entire body stiffens at the mention of his name. He’s quietly grateful that Oberon looked the other way as he was going by his list. “As long as I don’t know the face attached, there’s no need to worry.” Peter looks at Oberon with big eyes.   
“Promise?” The Fae responds with a kind smile.   
“Promise.”    
  
Oberon moves to shuffle around some of the pillows and blankets on the floor to make a small nest. It looks comfortable, but right now Peter could go for anything, really.   
“Now, please,” Oberon practically begs. “Take your rest.” He gestures at the makeshift bed. “Sleep.” This time, Peter didn’t have to be told twice. He shuffles past Oberon, feeling the Fae’s eyes press into his back. When he reaches the spot, he doesn’t even lay down anymore- he just drops himself onto the soft, plush pillows. He vaguely hears Oberon speak, but his mind has already stopped processing the words as he drifts into a dreamless sleep.   
  
…   
  
Peter wakes the next day, head still groggy, to find Oberon completely focused on sewing something. The young man moves to sit up straight and then realizes what exactly Oberon is sewing.   
“Hey!” He exclaims, moving to grab it from Oberon. The Fae expertly twists around Peter’s hand, preventing Peter from ripping it from his grip. “That’s Uncle Ben’s, don’t touch that!” The second the words leave Peter’s lips, he grabs the bottom half of his face to shut himself up. Oberon looks at him surprised. Something sad seems to wash over the Fae- something… Knowing.   
“Has he passed?” Peter drops himself back into the pillows, sitting with his legs crossed. “He has,” Oberon confirms for himself. “I am sorry for your loss.”   
  
“Thanks…” Peter mumbles, eyes still strained on Oberon’s skilled fingers threading the needle through the scarf. “I don’t have a lot of him left, that scarf is important to me.”   
“It seemed like it would fall apart any minute. I am merely sewing up the holes,” Oberon says. “With thread made of the feathers of a Phoenix.”   
“Wha-“   
“Now, whenever you wear it, you will not be cold, as the flames of the firebird will keep you warm.”   
  
“I thought you said no magic.”   
“I promised I would not use  _ my _ magic on _ you _ ,” Oberon quips. “This is a Phoenix’s magic that is being interwoven with a scarf that you might happen to wear regularly.” Peter groans and lays back down again.   
“You finding ways around your promises isn’t going to make me trust you more.”   
“I did not do anything funny when you were asleep, if that’s what you mean. I watched you for a while, but you did not speak much. You mentioned May a few times, which  _ may _ or _ may _ not be the month.” Oberon’s pun is paired with a wink and Peter opts to wave away the fact that Oberon literally watched him sleep. “You said ‘Ned’ once. Told them to hand you a 2x4, whatever that might mean.” Peter scoffs a laugh.   
  
“Legos,” the student mumbles.   
“What was that?”   
“It’s a standard Lego brick. You can build things with that.”   
“For leisure?” Oberon seems to be finishing up the scarf, tying some last knots. Peter hums in agreement.   
“I guess you could say Legos are toys.” Oberon smirks, but still does not look up.   
“I also do enjoy playing with… Toys.” His voice is a little darker, resulting in a shiver running down Peter’s spine.    
“The toys being humans?” Oberon eyes Peter with a grin, but before Peter can remark on how, once again, saying things like that isn’t helping Oberon’s case, Oberon stands up and hands Peter Ben’s scarf.   
  
“It is done.” Oberon’s smile is warm, as is the fabric that he places in Peter’s hand. Peter studies the scarf, amazed at how the holes- even the big ones- have been fixed completely. If Peter didn’t wear that scarf every single day, he probably wouldn’t even be able to tell where the holes used to be. The fabric seems to emit heat, as Oberon had hinted it would. Peter smiles at it and brings it to his face to smell his uncle’s persistent cologne on it.   
“Thank you.” His voice sounds muffled in the wool.   
“You’re welcome,” Oberon replies simply. “I do not need or want anything for it in return. Good afternoon, by the way.” Peter sits up straight immediately.   
  
“A-afternoon?”   
“You slept long and deep. I did not want to wake you; your rest seemed needed.”   
“How many hours do we-”   
“Four-ish.” The Fae stands up. “Would you like to go for a walk?”   
“I- yes,” Peter scrambles to stand up, giving the Fae an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, I-”   
“You kept me company, Puck. As I said, that is all I want.” Oberon smiles. “Though, now you are awake, I intend to make the most of it.” The Fae grabs Peter’s coat and hands it to him. He then turns to the door and opens it. The ice cold wind that enters, forms goosebumps on Peter’s skin. He instinctively wraps the scarf around himself and is surprised to find that it is not just warm around his neck. The scarf warms all of him, even though he is not wearing his coat yet. He looks up at Oberon wide-eyed. The Fae smiles wide at him.   
“The wonder in your eyes warms me, as the scarf warms you.” He then nods at the snow-white world outside. “Shall we?”   
  
…   
  
“So,” Oberon starts after a short, silent walk. “Your uncle was important to you?”   
“Is,” Peter corrects him. “He and my aunt raised me to be who I am.” Peter hides his face behind the scarf as he steps through the snow. Once again, Oberon walks over it, while Peter wades through. The magic of the scarf now keeps him dry and warm, unlike yesterday. “There is no way he could ever not be important to me.”   
“And he passed suddenly?” Peter doesn’t necessarily enjoy the interrogation, but he feels bad for sleeping so long, so he indulges the Fae. For now.   
  
“Got shot by robbers,” he mumbles.   
“Sounds like there’s more to it,” Oberon adds insightfully. Peter isn’t just going to tell Oberon the whole thing, though. The man didn’t want to tell Peter about his past just yet either.   
“Don’t,” Peter pushes out. Oberon stops in his tracks, while Peter continues his strides.   
“Let me guess,” he speaks louder to have his words bridge the growing distance between the two of them. “You think it is your fault.” Now, Peter halts too.   
“It was,” he mutters to himself, before shaking his head and continuing his walk.   
  
“Hey!” Oberon shouts suddenly, causing Peter to turn back surprised, only to be met with a force that makes him lose his balance and fall into the snow, ass first. He yelps at the cold hitting his face and gasps for air. The Fae had thrown a snowball at him. Peter blinks once. Twice. Then, he chuckles, leaving his worries behind to grab some snow with his hands and press it together. He scrambles to stand up just in time, so he can dodge a second snowball coming his way. He nearly stumbles over, but manages to throw the ammunition he just made back at Oberon.   
“Gotcha!” Peter cheers victoriously when he hits his target in the chest, but quickly rushes to run away, laughing.    
“I will get you for that!”   
“You started it!” Peter yelps as he dodges yet another snow ball.    
  
They chase each other for a little bit, until they both spot the town with the train station in the distance.   
“Oh, we’re here?” Peter asks, looking back in the direction where they just came from. Oberon nods as he joins Peter with his hands on his hips. “That’s not actually that far.”   
“I made it not far.” Peter frowns at Oberon’s words and looks up at him confused.   
“Made it?”   
“My home cannot just be found by anybody. I decide where it is when.” Peter nods, understanding yet also not understanding. Fae magic is strangely convenient. Trying to figure it out might be a little too ambitious for him for now. Maybe they could talk about it more extensively next time Peter comes over. Peter inwardly scoffs when he realizes he’s already looking forward to next time.   
  
Both men are startled at Peter’s suddenly growling stomach.   
“You haven’t eaten yet,” Oberon states. Peter chuckles nervously as he eyes his backpack.   
“Only got two more energy drinks in there. Don’t think I’ll ever wanna chug a can again, though.”   
“That poison does not count as breakfast,” Oberon laughs. “Would you like to go into town and buy something?”   
“Don’t have money,” Peter says, quickly deciding to add: “On me right now.” To make it seem less suspicious. Oberon knows better, though. Peter isn’t rich at all and before yesterday he had spent all of his cash on the cans of Monster to keep himself awake.   
  
“I have money.” Oberon smiles and starts walking towards the town, before Peter could protest. “Come on, my treat.”   
  
…   
  
Not much later, both Peter and Oberon walk out of the bakery with some fresh croissants. They sit down on a bench nearby and Peter gratefully devours the food. He isn’t sure if Oberon simply eats along because he genuinely wants to, or to just be polite. Peter doesn’t really care about that, though. He’s glad he gets to eat some proper food again. He’s also glad he managed to loosen up a little more around Oberon. The man is genuinely nice and now that Peter has the promise to rely on, he can finally relax a little…   
  
_ “YO, PENIS PARKER!” _   
  
Time stops. Peter’s eyes widen and he turns his head to where the familiar voice came from.   
“Parker?” He hears Oberon mumble under his breath and he wishes he could just disappear. Peter stands up quickly and nearly drops his breakfast. Oberon stays seated, simply staring at his food with a scowl on his face.   
“The hell are you doing here, Penis?” Flash swaggers towards them. For once, Peter is grateful for the nickname. However, his bully did manage to give his last name to Oberon. “Thought you were broke.”   
“Train travel is free, remember?” Peter says through gritted teeth.   
“Ah, right, you travel by train,” Flash scoffs. “Like all the other commoners.” He rolls his eyes at Peter’s balled fists. “Still, though. Didn’t think you’d ever go here of all places.”   
  
“Why are  _ you _ here then?”   
“None of your fucking business, Penis.” Flash then bends sideways to look past Peter. “Who’s the dude you’re with?”   
“My- eh, my uncle-“   
“Your uncle?” Flash’s condescending laugh rumbles through Peter’s entire being. He hasn’t seen Flash since high school, yet the asshole still manages to make him feel so small and insignificant. “You mean the dead guy?” The air is knocked out of Peter’s lungs and his voice is shaky when he speaks again.   
“N-No, he-“   
  
“Quiet.” Oberon’s words cut through the conversation like a sharp knife. He stands up collected, but his eyes are icey. Nothing like what Peter has ever seen before. His warmth has disappeared. A strange cold- colder than the actual temperature outside- seems to seep from his body and he slowly passes Peter to look down at Flash. The usually so confident bully flinches at Oberon’s presence. Part of Peter is glad there is literally no one else on the streets right now. “What’s your name, kid?” Peter’s eyes widen and he immediately steps between them.   
“Flash- this is Flash.” Oberon’s ice shifts to Peter, who freezes where he stands.   
“I do not want a nickname. Not this time, Puck.”   
“Ugh, why is everyone in your family weird?” Flash groans and turns back. “If he even is your uncle and not some guy you’re selling your body to for cash. We all know you need it.”   
  
“ _ Flash _ ,” Oberon seethes. “If I hear one more foul word from your lips, you will regret it, I promise you.” Flash scoffs, but Peter knows it’s more than an empty threat.   
“Whatever, dude.” Flash turns. “I was leaving anyways. Have fun,  _ dickwads _ .” Flash saunters off and Peter barely dares to look at Oberon. His eyes glow bright and blue, and the ice that Peter had only felt up until now, now grows from Oberon’s crow’s feet to his hair. The Fae raises his hand in front of him with a clenched jaw. Peter wants to stop him by grabbing his arm, but judging by how the ice also grows from the tips of his fingers and up his wrists, it looks like Peter might lose a finger or two if he tried.   
  
“Oberon?” Peter tries quietly.   
“I promised, didn’t I?” He growls. His voice sounds off. Dark. Peter turns his head to look at Flash, who is still walking away. He does seem to have a quickened pace, which was probably because he could also feel Oberon’s intimidating magic.   
“Please, don’t hurt him-“ Peter begs. Oberon shifts to look at Peter surprised, seemingly realizing what he’s doing. He takes a deep breath and drops his arm, the ice on his skin receding back to wherever it had come from.   
“I-“ Oberon furrows his brows. “I haven’t used that kind of magic in years-“ He seems genuinely taken aback by his own actions and Peter finally dares to move in to grab his upper arm.   
  
“It’s okay, I- I’m not scared.”   
“You lie,” Oberon sighs.   
“I don’t want to be the reason for more hurt, that’s all.” Peter takes a breath, pushing the memories of his uncle’s death away. Oberon rolls his shoulders.   
“I did make a promise, though. Some mischief needs to be done.”   
“Any… Harmless things you can do to him?” Oberon glances at Flash in the distance again, thinks for a second and then nods, grinning wide.   
“I have a little something in mind.” He brings up his hand again, but holds his palm up instead of down this time.    
  
_ “No matter the grip on the shoes you wear, may you slip, slide and trip whenever you swear.”  
  
_ A cold breeze carries the spell that appears in Oberon’s hand towards Flash at the other side of the road and nearly immediately he yelps and lands on his butt. Peter can’t help but chuckle and turn to face Oberon again, who looks at him with a proud smile.   
“That alright?”   
“Perfect.”   
  
…   
  
The last few hours flew by. The two men finished their croissants and continued their walk through town. They talked and talked, skillfully evading sensitive topics about their past and the odd, cold magic Oberon had conjured earlier. Peter was grateful that, even though Oberon now knew it, he didn’t mention Peter’s last name. He is still afraid it might come back to haunt him one day, but for now, at least Oberon is respectful about it. As he said, he doesn’t want Peter’s name. He just wants his company.    
  
After the twenty-four hours pass, Oberon drops him off at the train station.    
“Guess this is it for today, huh?” Peter says quietly, pushing his hands into his coat pockets. “I promise I’ll sleep less next time.”   
“Oh, dear,” Oberon laughs. “We take our promises seriously, Puck. Might be wise to set an alarm next time, then.” Peter laughs.   
“I will, I will. As easy as it is to just sleep through, I still don’t think it’s fair to you.”   
“Company, Puck,” Oberon smiles as he moves in to grab Peter’s hands and hold them to his chest. “All I want is company.” His breath is warm on Peter’s lips and Peter absentmindedly licks them. He’s surprised to find himself disappointed that he couldn’t taste the Fae.   
“When do I see you again?” He doesn’t dare to break eye contact with Oberon. The Fae is so close to him. It’s overwhelming, yet he can’t move away.   
“Imbolc,” Oberon whispers. “February 1 st .”   
“That’s a long wait.”   
“I’ll count the days.” Oberon smiles, finally stepping back from Peter to give him some space. He hopes nobody saw them standing like that. Otherwise they might’ve thought what Flash did.   
“Thank you for your hospitality,” he says politely with a curt nod before stepping through the gates.   
“Of course, Puck. Until next time!” Oberon waves. When Peter raises his hand to wave back, a woman passes in front of him. When she steps out of his field of vision, Oberon has disappeared.   
  
In the train back to New York, he mulls over everything that had happened the past twenty four hours.   
“I’ll count the days,” Oberon had said.   
“Me too, Oberon,” Peter mumbles as the train makes its way into New York City. He closes his eyes. “Me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be released on Imbolc, February 1st! In that chapter, a new Fae will be introduced. One who is known for his illusions... and who might not be as kind and well-willing as Peter initially thinks he is.
> 
> SEE YA THEN! <3


	3. Imbolc

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Oberon resides  
> Peter no longer hides
> 
> It is all fun and games  
> Though, how about their names?
> 
> Passion grows flattered  
> Or will bonds be shattered?
> 
> Will mystery get in the way  
> Through interference of another Fae?

The Fae haunts Peter. His thoughts, his dreams- both day and night. Oberon’s smile and intense gaze follow Peter through life. He catches himself yearning to hear the man’s laughter, to feel his fingers curl in Peter’s neck as he did when he took off Peter’s coat. Sometimes, Peter imagines how he would whisper, laying next to him in bed. How his soft lips and stubble would contrast themselves on the shell of Peter’s ear. He can only guess the words the Fae would tell him, but part of him wonders what his name would sound like from Oberon’s tongue.  
  
_“Peter…”_ _  
__  
_ The young man gasps as he shakily thrusts up into his hand, spilling over his lower abdomen. His muscles tense and his lips part to let out a strained noise in a half-assed attempt to hold back his ecstatic experience. Wave upon wave of pleasure floods over him until his body and member slack. Peter pants, eyes closed, and whispers the Fae’s name in reply to his imagination.  
“Oberon-”  
  
Peter knows he shouldn’t be thinking of Oberon like this. The more he gives in to his growing infatuation with the Fae, the more likely he is to slip up and give himself to the man fully. He can’t help the small voice in the back of his head, wondering how bad it would be to spend eternity with Oberon. Would it be bad at all?  
  
…  
  
When Imbolc finally arrived, Peter took the first train to the woods. Maybe he’s a little eager, but he simply can’t wait to see Oberon again. He scrolls through his phone, smiling at some silly photos of May he took last week and setting one as his lock screen. She’s alive again because of the Fae- because of Oberon. And all the man wants is company. Nothing more, nothing less. _Well_ , Peter thinks _. If it’s company he wants, it’s company he’ll get._ _  
__  
_ With the snow gone, Peter more confidently finds his way through the woods. He’s still not exactly sure where to go, but at least the direction he’s taking feels like it makes more sense.  
“Oberon?” Peter uses his hands to help his voice carry further. “You here?”  
“Why, aren’t you cute.” Peter’s back straightens and he turns, startled, at the voice behind him. A man with slightly longer, pushed back, dirty blond hair grins down at him from a large branch. His short, trimmed beard enunciates his jawline and he has large eyes, almost comically so. They glow dim, just like Oberon’s. Fae. Bad news.  
  
Peter swallows and presses his lips on top of each other, breathing in through his nose.  
“Says a strange man sitting in a tree by himself in the middle of the woods,” he replies calm and collected. The Fae chuckles darkly, causing a shiver to run down Peter’s spine. The man hops off the branch and lands effortlessly.  
“Hmm,” the Fae hums. “If it is strange I am here in the woods by myself, then why is it not odd you are here?”  
“I’m looking for someone,” Peter answers earnestly. “A friend who goes by Oberon.”  
  
Suddenly, Peter’s blood seems to freeze, locking him in place as the Fae stalks closer until he is right in front of Peter. He looks down, locking Peter’s eyes with his. The Fae grins and leans in, nearly letting their noses touch.  
“You may call me Oberon, then.” The man’s breath is cold on Peter’s face and the young man blinks in an attempt to fight a sudden drowsiness that washes over him. “I’ll be your friend.” The Fae’s gaze holds him in place and momentarily, Peter wonders if the beauty of the being’s bright blue eyes are the cause of this sleepiness. He is using magic on Peter and only now does it become painfully obvious what Oberon could have done to him from the start, but never did.  
“I don’t think I should-” As quickly as the Fae got hold of him, he lets Peter go again. He looks to his side cautiously and when Peter blinks, the Fae is gone.  
  
“Puck,” a familiar voice speaks. Immediately, a smile grows on Peter’s face. He pivots and the Fae seems surprised by how Peter beams.  
“Oberon, hey!” Peter holds himself back. Part of him wants to fall into the Fae’s embrace straight away, but as much as his feelings for the man have rooted and grown, he’s not sure Oberon has gone through the same.  
“Who were you talking to?” Oberon inquires curiously. Peter cocks his head and frowns. With an uncertain pout, he looks around him.  
“Nobody- eh, myself, I guess? I tend to do that.”  
  
…  
  
“What’s that?” Oberon creeps over Peter’s shoulder, staring at the device in Peter’s hand. The young man is seated on the soft pillows of Oberon’s cabin. Peter grins.  
“With my aunt back at work, she started making money again.” He holds up his phone to proudly show it to Oberon. “She gave me this phone for Christmas!” The Fae frowns slightly and shuffles to sit down next to Peter, who sucks in a breath at how close the man is to him.  
  
“Phone…” Oberon repeats, lost in thought. “It looks fragile.”  
“Well,” Peter chuckles. “I wouldn’t throw or toss it. I don’t want it to break- these things are expensive.”  
“Huh.” Oberon cocks an eyebrow. There’s a curious glimmer in his eyes as he stares at Peter’s fingers caressing the screen. “May I… May I see it?”  
“You are seeing it, aren’t you?” Peter smirks. Oberon scoffs and gestures at the phone.  
“From up close, please?”  
“Since you asked so nicely,” Peter says theatrically, wanting to hand Oberon the device. However, he quickly pulls back. “There’s metal in this.”  
“I can handle it, remember?” Oberon says with an encouraging nod. “I am Iron Man.”  
“Right- right,” Peter chuckles at the silly nickname and passes the phone to the Fae.  
  
The man turns and twists it in his hands, studying it intently. His eyes squeeze to slits in an attempt to look into the charger hole.  
“Press the button on the screen,” Peter instructs. Oberon looks up at him confused, but does as told. The screen lights up and a photo of Peter and May together appears. Oberon gasps in awe.  
“Who is that?”  
“M-“ Peter stops himself, nearly saying her name. “My aunt.”  
“The one I helped?” Peter nods.  
“She seems nice.”  
“She’s the nicest.”  
  
“Not I?” Oberon jokes, causing Peter to scoff a soft laugh.  
“Don’t make me choose.” Oberon perks up at that, eyes wide and glimmering, mouth open in a wide smile.  
“So, you think I am nice?”  
“I- I don’t mind spending time with you.” Peter looks away into the fire, blushing profusely and silently swearing at himself for feeling it crawl up to his ears. Oberon stays quiet, but Peter can practically hear him grinning. The Fae settles flush next to him as they both stare at the flames.  
“I think you are nice too,” Oberon speaks softly. He slowly raises his hand to give the phone back to Peter.  
  
Instead of taking it, Peter curls his fingers around Oberon’s and presses the home screen again. Oberon seems surprised by Peter’s actions, but watches intrigued as Peter swipes up, opening the camera without unlocking his phone. Oberon gasps when he is met with his own moving image on screen.  
“It is a mirror?” Oberon moves the phone closer to his face with Peter’s hands still on top of his.  
“A camera.”  
“For… Photos?” The Fae looks at Peter with a cocked head. The young man smiles and nods.  
“Correct,” he replies with a posh accent. “And videos too. Here-” Peter takes the phone out of Oberon’s hands and angles it so they are both in shot. His thumb hovers over the button on screen. “Cheese!”  
  
Right as Peter presses the button, Oberon turns to him with a frown.  
“Cheese?” Click. “What does that have to do with pictures?” Peter snorts and looks down at his phone to open his album. Oberon’s captured face is pricelessly confused, but Peter understands where it came from.  
“I- I’m not actually sure,” Peter chuckles. “I think it has to do with the word itself? Like, you kind of smile when you say it?”  
“I smile when I say cheese because it reminds me of its lovely taste.” Only then Oberon notices the photo on Peter’s screen. “Oh, that one is not particularly flattering,” he deadpans as he leans in to look at himself. “Can we tear it?”  
“Let’s not rip up my phone.” Peter smiles. “I’ll delete it.”  
“Just because I cannot lie, does not mean I cannot tell when others do,” Oberon says smugly. Peter hides his phone, but his eyes shimmer mischievously.  
“We could also just try again?”  
“Yes, let’s do that,” Peter says, already promising to himself that that photo will be his home screen.  
  
Peter unlocks his phone and raises his arm to angle it right again. His breath hitches when he feels Oberon press himself against Peter, to fit in the frame better. The Fae’s breath is warm in his neck and Peter nearly forgets what they were doing. He smiles awkwardly, but it turns into a genuine laugh when Oberon pokes his side slightly and exclaims:  
“CHEESE!”  
  
…  
  
“So, which one of these are edible?” Peter asks as he pulls at the leaves of a bush, nodding at the berries resting at the base of the twigs.  
“For starters, that one leads to an eternal nap, so I would advise against it,” Oberon states dryly. Peter immediately lets go of the plant and stands up straight again. They had decided, since Peter can’t actually eat food that Oberon offers him, to go foraging. That way, Peter can collect his own food. It’s been around five hours since Peter had arrived at the cottage and their conversations were as interesting and comfortable as they could be. Peter really loves his time with Oberon.  
  
“How about that one?” Peter sheepishly points at another bush with darker berries. Oberon smirks and saunters towards it, taking exactly one berry off of it and tossing it into his mouth. He chews and swallows.  
“Good pick.” He picks another few berries and eats them. Peter can only stare at Oberon’s bobbing Adam’s apple. After a few bites, Oberon cocks an eyebrow. “Are you alright, Puck? The berries are safe.” Peter blinks and steps towards the bush, but Oberon doesn’t move. Instead, he moves to angle a branch so that the berries are easier to pick for Peter.  
  
The young man fills his hand with berries and gratefully pulls his arm back from the bush. Two got squashed in his greedy attempt to fit as many as possible in his hands, but they still look edible. Peter takes his free hand and tastes a single piece. It’s a little sour, but incredibly tasty. He immediately perks up and tosses another three in his mouth, not noticing Oberon’s intense stare on him. Peter’s next bite is a little too eager. To prevent the berry from falling out, he clenches his teeth. However, the berry wasn’t in Peter’s mouth all the way, so it squashes and starts dripping down his chin.  
  
“Shit-” Peter exclaims as he makes a cup of his hands to catch the juice dripping down.  
“Here,” Oberon says quickly. “Allow me-” The Fae raises his hand and steps closer until their breaths mingle. Peter can’t move as Oberon’s thumb finds his jaw and wipes away the juice. He looks up at the man with big eyes, jaw slacked as his mind races. Oberon, seemingly reluctantly, takes his hand back but Peter stops him by dropping the berries he still had to the ground and grabbing hold of the Fae’s wrist.  
  
His mouth is dry, regardless of the juicy fruit he just ate. He feels like he’s not breathing, but judging by the fact that he can feel his heart thump in his head and that he sees his chest rising and falling rapidly from his peripheral vision, he’s still taking in oxygen.  
“Puck?” Oberon whispers. “Are you-”  
“I think there’s still some left on my lips,” Peter replies breathlessly. It is a bold move, but one he was definitely willing to make after so many more hours of talking and getting to know the man better.  
“My hands are already sticky.” Oberon licks his lips, eyes strained on Peter’s plump ones. Peter absentmindedly mimics Oberon’s actions.  
“Only one way to get rid of it then…”  
  
Oberon scoffs softly at Peter’s directness. The corner of his mouth curls up as he leans in, closing his eyes. Peter’s and Oberon’s noses brush together and Peter can’t help but close his eyes as well, relishing in the feeling of Oberon’s heat flush against him and his breath mingling with the Fae’s. He gasps softly when he feels a tongue flick against his lips, but the Fae remains distanced in a way that drives Peter mad with want.  
“I can only imagine how sweet you would taste,” Oberon mutters.  
“Don’t imagine anymore…” Peter’s order soon turns into a plea. “Please.”  
“Since when are you so loose? So relaxed? Why would you let me steal a kiss from y-”  
  
Peter lets out a strained noise at Oberon’s indecision on what to do, now knowing damn well the Fae wants exactly the same Peter wants. He boldly leans in, immediately opening his mouth so Oberon can push his surprised moan into him. Where Peter took initiative, Oberon now takes the lead. Peter lets himself be guided into the kiss, letting go of Oberon’s hand, so it can find its way into Peter’s hair. After a little bit, Peter pulls back slightly and scoffs a quiet laugh, still not opening his eyes.  
“Maybe your spells are finally working.”  
  
…  
  
The door to Oberon’s cabin gets blown wide open as he and Peter are glued to each other, breathing rapidly and tugging at their clothes. The Fae lifts Peter effortlessly, kicks the door shut and pushes the young man up against it. His hips grind into Peter’s crotch and the human whimpers at the friction against his clothed cock.  
“O-Oberon-” he begs. “More- more, please-” The Fae immediately moves his lips to Peter’s neck to suckle on it. He grins against Peter’s skin when a certain spot has Peter buck his hips involuntarily. Oberon sucks at it a little harsher, drawing the most delicious sounds from Peter. “ _More-_ ”  
“I will give you all- everything- all of it.” Oberon’s mutters are nearly incoherent as he ravishes down Peter’s neck, pulling at the hoodie until he can reach Peter’s collar bone. He grazes his teeth past it and pushes his hips up against Peter’s crotch again.  
“Yes, yes, please-”  
  
Oberon carries Peter over to the pillow pile on the floor and sits down with Peter still on top of him. The young man’s eyes flutter open to stare straight into Oberon’s. They glow brighter than they did before. Peter immediately pushes in to kiss him again, rolling his hips into Oberon’s and moaning with every sting of stimulation on his aching clothed cock. The Fae pushes his hips up invitingly as he pulls his head back to take off his shirt. Peter stares, nearly drools, at the beautifully toned chest.  
“Your turn,” Oberon chuckles darkly. Peter follows the Fae’s lead and undresses his upper body.  
  
When Peter’s head is hidden in his dress shirt as he awkwardly pulls it over his head, there’s a sudden intense, wet suckle on his left nipple.  
“A-ah!” Peter exclaims, twitching under Oberon’s attention. The Fae’s large hands keep Peter in place. He wants to get rid of his shirt asap, but now that he can’t see, the sensations of Oberon’s tongue circling his sensitive bud are all the more overwhelming. When he’s free, Peter throws the shirt away from him and moves his hands into Oberon’s hair to anchor himself. The roll of his hips into Oberon’s crotch is steady now, but both men are ready for more.  
  
Peter feels like he’s floating as the Fae turns them both around until he’s pinning Peter on the floor. He rubs their clothed crotches together and all Peter can do is take whatever is given him.  
“Can I-” Oberon gasps as he sucks possessive marks on Peter’s chest. “M-May I-”  
“Fuck me-” Peter orders. “Please, I need you-”  
“Oh, _Dandelion_ ,” Oberon moans, tugging at Peter’s pants. “Sweet Chamomile, Bluebell, Primrose…” Each flower nickname is paired with a kiss or a mark or the scraping of teeth over Peter’s skin. His head spins and his eyes roll back as he tries to buck up into Oberon. He can’t close his mouth anymore. All he can do is gasp and moan and attempt to catch Oberon’s lips with his before the Fae moves back to ravish Peter’s neck again. “Clover, Columbine, Sunflower-”  
  
When all clothes have been discarded and both men are grinding into each other naked, Oberon’s voice rumbles through the cottage.  
“ _Puck-_ ” Peter smiles at how much that particular name takes him out of it.  
“ _Parker._ ” Oberon freezes at Peter’s last name. He pulls back, wide-eyed until he can look at Peter properly. Both of them pant, hips still gently rolling into each other as a soft reminder they’re still going.  
“What?” The Fae whispers.  
“Puck isn’t a sexy name, is it,” Peter chuckles, bringing his hands up to trace patterns on his chest with his index finger. He gasps quietly when he brushes past his nipples. “You already know my last name…” Peter half-closes his eyes and licks his lips in an attempt to seduce Oberon to continue. “ _Use it._ ”  
  
“Parker…” The word gently falls from Oberon’s lips and Peter can feel that same tug at his heart as he did last time. It feels amazing. “Parker,” Oberon repeats, seemingly feeling pleasure from simply saying it as well. “Parker-Parker-Parker-“ Sparks seem to fly from Oberon’s eyes and he growls, moving in to eat Peter up again. Peter is unsure what is happening, but it feels absolutely heavenly. Is it Fae magic? Oberon isn’t in pain, like he said he would be if he broke his promise, so it’s not Oberon using magic directly on him. Maybe Peter feels the unwritten rules of the Fae; rules no one can go around. Not even promises.  
  
Oberon might not have Peter’s full name, but through this, part of Peter wonders if he is already bound to him. In all honesty, he couldn’t even mind it if he tried. It feels too good. The sensation is everything; an overwhelming pleasure that makes Peter yearn for more. Earlier, Peter wondered if it would be bad to be bound. But if it feels like this, he is certain that it’s not bad at all. Not with someone as sweet and caring and loving and giving as Oberon.  
  
Peter gets brought back to reality by Oberon snapping his finger. The young man blinks dreamily and smiles up at the Fae.  
“Are you with me?” Oberon checks and Peter nods.  
“Feels so good-” The Fae grins but it soon fades when Peter cheekily cocks an eyebrow. “However, I do believe I told you to fuck me,” Peter says cheekily. Oberon scoffs a laugh and leans back until he’s up straight again.  
“Proof of autonomy, right there,” he chuckles as he brings one hand down to circle Peter’s hole. Peter immediately pushes down and lets out a soft whine.  
“Make me yours-” he gasps. Oberon licks one long stripe from Peter’s right nipple over his collar bone, up to his neck and jaw.  
“You already are, my flower.” Oberon’s voice is dark and Peter can’t help a high pitched sigh escape his throat.  
“Are you alright with Oberon?” Peter double checks.  
“From your lips, always,” the Fae smirks, still teasing around Peter’s entrance.  
“Anything else, my king?” Peter jokes, referencing the fact that the character is king of the Fae. Oberon freezes at that, causing Peter to open his eyes. “Too much?” Peter ponders out loud. Oberon licks his lips and swallows, seemingly regaining his composure.  
  
The Fae then pushes in without warning, curling his finger. Peter’s surprised the glide comes so easily. Like he is already lubed up. Magic, he guesses. He doesn’t really want to think more of it and the ecstasy already makes him forget what just happened. When Peter’s body complies and follows without protest, it doesn’t take long for a second finger to be added. And then a third. Peter is fucking himself on Oberon’s fingers while the man searches for the spot that will make Peter scream. Soon enough, he finds it. Though, after brushing past it once and earning the most delectable noise from Peter, he pulls his fingers back. Before Peter can whine about the lack of touch, the fingers are replaced by Oberon’s stiff cock.  
“Wasps-” Peter chuckles at the characteristic swear coming from the Fae. “You’re so tight, _Parker_. So tight.”  
  
Oberon bottoms out and stops moving, allowing Peter to get adjusted to the Fae’s girth. Peter, however, is so ready to be fucked, he doesn’t really want to wait anymore. He reaches his, up until now jelly and motionless, arms up until his fingers wrap around Oberon’s shoulders. He then starts pulling and smiles when Oberon lets himself be guided. The Fae’s eyes are closed, like he’s trying to concentrate. It makes him a lot more compliant, which Peter uses to his advantage.  
  
Peter keeps pulling and turning until Oberon is laying down and Peter is sitting on top of him. The young man’s hands rest on the Fae’s chest.  
“Your turn,” Peter whispers, repeating what Oberon said earlier, as he leans down to obscenely lick at Oberon’s perched nipples. He wets them up nicely and moves back enough so his index fingers and thumbs get enough space to start rolling the nipples between them. Oberon chokes back a moan. His entire body is tense. It’s only now that Peter notices Oberon’s arms are spread, fists clenched and… Is that magic in his closed palms?  
  
“Are you alright?” Peter inquires. Oberon nods, simply and aggressively.  
“Holding back-” he chokes out.  
“What are you holding back?” Peter’s question is paired with a first, slow and gentle roll of his hips. Oberon sucks in a breath and Peter stares curiously at the sparks, brightening in the Fae’s hands.  
“Magic. My- m-”  
“Is that magic dangerous to me?” Something about that question thrilled Peter. The only thing that actually frightens him right now is the idea Oberon might want to stop. And also the fact that he may or may not have fallen in love with the man below him.  
“No,” Oberon groans. “J-Just magic-” he pauses to react to Peter slowly lifting himself up his cock, only to lower himself again and slightly wiggle his hips when he bottoms out.  
Peter’s curiosity grows by the second, just as his need to get both Oberon and himself off.  
  
“What kind?” The words roll off Peter’s tongue, low and alluring.  
“Illusions- I think I- I can make them be illusions.” Peter isn’t sure what Oberon means with that exactly, but the reply surely piqued his interest. He picks up the pace riding the Fae, reveling in how Oberon falls apart below him. The magic in Oberon’s hands intensifies and it is now Peter’s sole mission to have the man let go for him. Peter leans in and kisses Oberon on the lips, so soft and gentle.  
“Oberon,” Peter whispers as he sits up straight again, slowly but surely turning his rolling into bouncing. “Open your eyes.” The Fae obeys and moans at the sight of Peter’s body on top of him. In a reflex, the man starts fucking up into Peter in tune with Peter’s bouncing. “O-oh, yes!” Peter exclaims. “I- I wanna see it, Oberon. Y-your magic. Let it out-“  
  
Oberon’s eyes roll back as he loses tension in his fingers. Blues and purples shoot from his hands, surrounding the two lovers with an endless galaxy. Peter gasps surprised, staring at the infinity around them. It’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. When he looks down at Oberon again, whose eyes still glow and flicker, he notices even the ground has turned to stars below them. He grins as he picks up the pace again.  
“Never thought I’d get to fuck in space,” he chuckles, riding Oberon feverishly. “Or y’know, get fucked by a Fae.”  
“You,” Oberon sighs with a smile. “You talk too much.”  
  
Now that Oberon doesn’t have to hold anything back anymore, he quickly turns them around like they were before. His hands, still sparking with magic, cup Peter’s cheeks and he brings them together in a hungry kiss. He has once again taken the lead and is now thrusting into Peter, chasing his high. One hand swiftly finds its way down between them. Peter moans into Oberon’s mouth when the Fae’s fingers curl around his shaft to pump him at the same pace as Oberon’s hips move against him. They’re wet and sticky with magic lube and precum and the sounds their crashing bodies make are downright porn-worthy.  
  
“Parkeeer…” The Fae groans.  
“O-Oberon,” Peter replies breathlessly. Their pace is relentless now, bodies tensed and nearing release.  
“Stark,” the Fae says, causing Peter’s eyes to shoot open when he feels another tug at his heart. The Fae looks down at him with a panting half-smile. “If I get to call you Parker, you get to call me Stark.”  
  
_Last names._ _  
__  
_ Peter’s entire body shakes and trembles as the edge is ever so close. He’s on fire, surrounded by moons and stars and milky ways and Oberon- Stark, right there with him, above him, making him see even more stars.  
“S-Stark-” he whispers. Around him, the scene intensifies and Oberon’s eyes glow even brighter.  
“Yes, that’s it, my sweet, my flower, my Parker-” Peter squeezes his eyes shut. “So close-” Peter isn’t sure if Oberon means himself or Peter, but either way, he’s right.  
“Wanna cum,” he gasps, biting into Oberon’s lower lip slightly.  
“Go on then, show me your beauty,” Oberon encourages, moving to sit up a little straighter and parting their faces from each other.  
  
Peter instinctively tries to move up along with Oberon, so he can keep their lips locked, but Oberon pushes him back down. The Fae’s thrusts are more calculated now, angled exactly where Peter needs him to go. His last free hand shifts to gently roll Peter’s balls while his other still pumps the young man’s shaft feverishly.  
“Stark!” Peter’s body thrashes and he cums, spilling himself all over Oberon’s hand and his own belly. He clenches down on the Fae’s cock and smiles deliriously when he milks Stark, the feeling of his insides being coated white adding another surge of pride and pleasure to his high.  
  
“Oh, flower,” Stark sighs, nearly dropping himself on top of Peter. “You were so good, so sweet.” Peter’s eyes are already closed, Oberon’s cock still sheathed inside of him.  
“Hmm…” Stark/Oberon shifts until they are both laying on their sides, bodies still flush together.  
“Will you sleep for me tonight?” Peter nods absentmindedly, still grinning ear to ear and basking in the afterglow. The smile brightens slightly when he feels Oberon’s lips press a soft kiss on his nose. “I will be here in the morning. Take your rest. I’ll hold you.”  
  
Peter drifts to sleep to the soft humming of the Fae’s voice. _Not bad,_ he thinks before losing himself to slumber. _Not bad at all._ _  
__  
_ …  
  
A chilly breeze hits Peter’s face. His lips curl up and he turns, feeling around for Oberon. For _Stark_. His smile fades when the haze of just waking up fades and he notices just how cold the room actually is. His hand ends up on the cool flooring. Oberon isn’t there. Peter opens his eyes and sucks in some air when he notices there is snow. Inside. He quickly moves to sit upright, pulling the blankets up to keep himself warm, and he looks around.  
  
Oberon sits by the opened door, hands folded together in front of his mouth. He’s hunched up and his expression is stern. Tight. Worry settles in Peter’s stomach.  
“O-Oberon?” He isn’t sure if he should be saying the Fae’s actual name now. Oberon doesn’t look up.  
“Get dressed.”  
“Is something wrong?” Peter’s browns curl together.  
“Get. Dressed.” Peter remains seated, frozen in place and at a loss for words. When Peter still doesn’t move, Oberon finally turns his face to stare Peter down. “Do as you’re told.”  
“Excuse me?” The young man’s eyes go wide with surprise. Who does this man think he is?  
“You’re leaving,” Oberon says with a shaky voice. “Now.” He looks away again. “Get dressed.”  
  
The world around Peter collapses. Everything they had been through together, everything that had happened… Is over?  
“I don’t understand-”  
“Do _not_ make me get over there and force you.” Peter immediately stands and grabs his clothes, feeling his tears threatening to spill. The only word going through is head right now is _why_. Why would Oberon do this? Why is he suddenly so different? Why does Peter have to leave so suddenly? Why is this happening?  
  
Once Peter is dressed, he grabs his phone from where it’s resting against a pillow. The screen doesn’t light up. Great; his new phone is dead too. He stares at his reflection in the dark screen. His cheeks are red and his eyes puffed. He blinks and then the tears fall.  
“Puck.” Peter gasps and looks up at the Fae who now stands. An odd glow now radiates from the middle of his chest. The man’s expression is pained, like he’s holding back. “You are no longer indebted to me. You are to go home and forget about us. Do _not_ come back to these woods. Ever.”  
  
“ _You,_ ” Peter pushes out through gritted teeth, his sadness slowly making place for anger. “You got what you wanted, didn’t you?” Oberon doesn’t speak. The only response Peter gets to his accusation is the twitch over Oberon’s upper lip. “You manipulated me enough to have sex with me and now you’re dropping me.” The Fae looks away and takes hold of the door, gesturing to outside.  
“Leave,” Oberon orders. “Please.” Peter is confused at how the Fae’s voice cracks, as if he actually cares about Peter.  
“Unbelievable,” the young man breathes. “I can’t believe I fell for this. For _you_!”  
“LEAVE!” The Fae’s aggression reverbs through the cottage, making it even colder than it already was. Peter’s jaw trembles as his tears now freely glide down his cheeks.  
  
Peter runs. Past the pots and pans at the cooking area, past the herbs hanging from the ceiling, past Oberon, through the door. The second he sets foot outside, he hears the door being thrown shut, but when he turns around he finds the cabin has disappeared entirely. It’s gone. And now Peter is alone in the woods. He shakes violently, dropping to his knees and sobbing. Part of him hopes that wherever Oberon is, that he can hear him wail.  
  
…  
  
When Peter arrives home, he plugs in his phone and heads to the shower. He feverishly washes himself, scrubbing his body and hating how he can still feel the Fae’s touch lingering on his skin. He wants it gone. Wants the Fae gone. He sobs under the stream, knowing damn well that he will never be able to get rid of the sensation of disgust. After an hour of letting his tears disappear in the drain, he turns off the tap, broken and drained- empty and dulled. He drops himself on his bed and simply lays there. He won’t be able to sleep anyways.  
  
…  
  
Peter is startled back to reality by his buzzing phone. The alarm he had set for the morning after Oberon went off, now that the battery was fully charged again. He swallows and grabs his phone, snoozing his alarm. He wants to put the phone away, but notices something is off. He unlocks it and the notification that caught his guard now fully pops up.  
  
_Recording ended due to empty battery._ _  
__  
_ Confused, yet curious, Peter opens his album to check which recording the notification meant. He blinks a few times when he spots the right one. Two hours and forty-two minutes. When did that happen? He selects it and starts the recording, not entirely unsurprised to be met by Oberon’s face, extremely close to the camera. The sight stings him.  
“Oh, this is a _video_ right?” Oberon’s voice asks from the phone’s speakers. “Right. Well, hello, future Puck, I am going to show you something.” The Fae turns the camera to show a peacefully sleeping Peter. The camera moves closer to Peter and he can hear a bit of shuffling. He guesses Oberon went to lay down next to Peter.  
  
“Do you see your face?” Oberon’s voice is toned down and soft, now that he’s so close to Peter’s sleeping form. Peter watches what Oberon means, already feeling the tears sting in his eyes again. “You wear no mask now…” A hand appears from the corner of the screen to move a few of Peter’s curls out of the way. His fingers caress Peter’s cheek, causing an unwelcome shiver to run down Peter’s real spine. “You are at peace like this. So wonderful, so beautiful…” The Fae sighs content. “I could watch you like this for hours, you know?”  
“I know.” Peter is startled to hear himself talk in the video. In his sleep. Oberon chuckles.  
“Oh, do you?”  
“Mhm.”  
“Tell me, Puck, what is your favorite season?”  
“Spring.”  
“Well, aren’t you lucky that’s right around the corner.”  
  
Peter wants to throw his phone to the other side of the room. Oberon is having a conversation with him that he doesn’t remember having. Because he was asleep. It makes him feel uneasy and wonder what else the Fae asked him.  
“Think you can do some math right now? That ought to be fun to make you try.” The Peter in the video doesn’t reply, so Oberon simply continues. “Puck, what is two plus two?”  
“Four,” Peter replies promptly. “Easy.”  
“Alright how about twenty-one times forty-eight?” It’s quiet for a few seconds, but Peter replies still.  
“One thousand and eight.”  
“I honestly would not know how to check if it is correct, but I would surely assume you are correct.”  
  
Oberon asks Peter some more insignificant questions before falling silent again, simply looking at Peter. It seems he forgot he was filming Peter as the phone is quickly put away in a standing position. Peter guesses this was the spot he found his phone in, looking out over the entire cottage. Peter scrolls ahead in the video, not wanting to watch Oberon play with Peter’s hair for one and a half hours.  
  
Peter plays the video at normal speed again when he spots Oberon standing up. He shuffles around the room and speaks softly.  
“I will be out back to collect some more berries. Will you be alright, _my love_?” The name is a punch in the gut for Peter and he pulls at his hair. He doesn’t know why he’s still watching, but part of him wonders if whatever made Oberon change his mind like that so suddenly has been caught on camera.  
“Be fine,” Peter in the video mumbles bluntly. “Love you, bye.” A wide, surprised smile spreads on Oberon’s face and he walks out, mumbling something to himself.  
  
Again, nothing happens for half an hour, when suddenly…  
“Here you are…” A familiar voice speaks. A stranger saunters into Oberon’s cottage. Peter feels like he’s seen him somewhere before, but he can’t recall where. His eyes glow blue, like Oberon’s and when he reaches Peter, he squats down. “Didn’t expect someone as delectable as you to spend time with our heir.”  
  
_Heir…?_ _  
__  
_ Peter’s skin crawls when the man’s hand traces down his bare body, curiously lifting the blankets and grinning wide at his findings. Peter instinctively clutches his sheets, covering himself more. He feels even more disgusted now.  
“Oh, aren’t you spent…” His eyes darken and his smirk turns ever so evil. “Used.”  
“Was so good,” the Peter in the video says. The man perks up surprised.  
“You speak in your slumber?”  
“Mm…”  
“Oh, what a nice turn of events…” The man’s hand cups Peter’s face. “Does the prince know your name?”  
  
_Prince-_ _  
__  
_ “No- yes. A little.”  
“A little? How does that work?”  
“Last name.”  
“Oh, like so. Well then, sweet thing, what is your last name?”  
“Parker.” Peter feels the tug at his heart again. _No,_ is all he can think. _Don’t say more._ _  
_ “And then, if you’ll indulge me… What is your first name?”  
  
“ _Your voice is silenced in eclipse, no more words fall from your lips-_ ” Oberon rushes in and reaches his hand forward at Peter, quieting him immediately. The second the spell has settled on Peter, Oberon’s eyes widen and he freezes before he collapses clutching his chest and letting out an agonized groan. Peter stirs, but the other Fae waves his hand once.  
“Do not wake ‘til morning comes, Parker, I have plans for you.” The man turns back to Oberon and scoffs a laugh. “I can spell him all I want, I have no promises to break. Unlike you, cousin.”  
  
Oberon gasps as he trembles, the area where he clutched his chest now glows blue like his eyes. Like Peter had seen the morning after. Oberon broke his promise and now had to deal with the consequences- the pain. He broke his promise; to protect Peter.  
“Why are you here,” Oberon seethes.  
“Why, I was quite intrigued to find this beautiful specimen in the woods yesterday. Searching for Oberon. I suppose that is you?” The man laughs condescendingly. “And you are not even king yet.” He turns back to Peter. “Pathetic… You didn’t even take his name.”  
  
“Step away from him.”  
“I will not. You have not claimed him, so I will.”  
“ _Mysterio-_ “ Oberon threatens, squaring up. His hands turn to ice like they had done when he almost spelled Flash. Snow is brought through the opened door by a wind Oberon conjures up.  
“Leave Puck alone.”  
“Oh!” Mysterio exclaims. “You call him Puck? And he calls you Oberon. How disgustingly sweet.” His expression drops. “I’m going to hurl.”  
  
“He’s not yours to take, leave us!” The snow in the cottage thickens as Oberon’s skin pales more with anger and cold magic.  
“Iron Man, do not tell me you love him.” Oberon’s jaw tightens at Mysterio’s condescending tone. “Oh, you love him.” Mysterio confirms to himself. “Well, then I’ll certainly enjoy taking him for myself.”  
“I will not let you!” Peter doesn’t understand why Oberon doesn’t just force the man out of his home.  
“You will, cousin.” Mysterio stands upright and circles Peter like a hawk, waiting for the right moment to take his prey. “For if you do not, I will tell all of Winter Court of the human you bedded. The human you _want_. The human you did not trick. The human who is not _yours,_ for you do not have his name _._ ”  
“You would not,” Oberon breathes. “All the Fae will come for him then. I won’t be able to protect him.”  
  
“ _That_ is what you are worried about?” Mysterio scoffs. “Not that your father will revoke your title and pass the throne to me for your dishonorable and disappointing behavior?”  
“I do not want to be a king like my father. The title means nothing to me.”  
“Then why not pass it to me?”  
“And leave you in charge of all of Winter Court? I’d rather eat my own two feet.”  
“Rude, much,” Mysterio says faux-offended. “Tell you what. I’m giving you one chance to redeem yourself.”  
“What will you have me do.”  
“Claim him.”  
“No,” Oberon immediately counters, taking two steps forward. Desperation seeps off every word. “No, please, do not make me do this.”  
“You choose, _Oberon_ ,” Mysterio taunts. “You either take his name and keep your honor, or you will lose your title to me and all of Winter Court will be scouring these woods to use him the way you would not.” He cocks his head and grins. “And I will be first in line. Your boy will certainly look lovely at my feet, having no choice but to worship me for all eternity.”  
  
“You disgust me,” Oberon seethes. Though, his magic loses power as his shoulders start hanging.  
“And you me, cousin.” Mysterio then steps over Peter’s body as he casually makes his way to the door, past Oberon. He places his hand on Oberon’s shoulder and pats twice. “Make our court proud.”  
  
Mysterio then leaves Oberon and Peter alone in the cottage- in the cold. Oberon’s sad eyes find Peter’s figure and after a minute of visibly holding in his tears he manages to shuffle towards Peter. A soft sob escapes his throat as he lays down next to Peter again, fixing his hair where Mysterio had undone it. The new light emitting from Oberon’s chest now lights up both of their faces. The Fae waves his hand over Peter’s face to undo the spell he had put on him. He then sniffs and the Peter watching the video cries along with him.  
  
“Oh, Puck, my flower,” Oberon mumbles through his tears. “I do not wish to lose you. I want to keep you.”  
“Keep me,” sleeping Peter replies softly. Oberon swallows and closes his eyes.  
“I can’t.”  
“Keep me,” Peter repeats.  
“No.” Oberon is sobbing quietly now. His shoulders shake with every intake of breath. _“No.”_ The Fae presses his lips together and swallows. “I love you too much to keep you.”  
“Love you too, bye.” Oberon can’t help but scoff a quiet laugh through his tears. Peter is still asleep. Whatever he says is steered on by his subconscious. It’s quiet for a few minutes, but Peter can’t get himself to stop the video. He watches as all possible emotions in existence pass over Oberon’s face.  
  
“Puck,” Oberon asks suddenly. Peter holds his breath, anticipating the question. “What is your name?” Peter stares breathlessly at the screen, but when the Peter in the video opens his mouth to speak, Oberon swiftly covers it. “ _No_. No, I do not want it.” He averts his gaze. “I should not have asked to begin with, I am sorry.”  
“It’s okay,” sleeping Peter answers, probably only responding to the _I am sorry_ part, not actually aware of what it was attached to.  
“It is not.”  
  
It’s quiet again for a little bit. Peter notices the video is almost at its end. He wonders if anything else will be said before his phone’s battery died. In the last thirty seconds, Oberon speaks once more.  
“I have decided to let you go, flower.” Oberon’s words are shaky. “You deserve your freedom more than I deserve anything else.” Peter is sobbing now, so painfully aware of the things he had accused Oberon of when he left the cottage. “You will never see me again after this, so I want- I want you to have this… To have mine.” Peter frowns through his tears. _His…? His what?_ “My name…” Peter’s eyes widen and he sits up straight in his bed. Is Oberon giving him the one thing they would never share? “My name is-”  
  
Peter stares at a black screen as the video and audio cut right when Oberon was about to say his name. After five solid minutes of being frozen in place, something in his mind finally clicks. He has to go back. Back to the woods, back to Oberon. Stat. Straight away. Pronto. Immediately. _Now_.  
  
…  
  
Peter runs as fast as his legs can carry him. The ground in the woods is treacherous and uneven, but he can’t get himself to slow down. The wind cuts the skin on his face and his quick breath condenses in front of his mouth.  
“OBERON!” His screams carry far. “OBERON, COME TO ME!” He nearly trips, causing him to stop running altogether. “OBERON, PLEASE!” he cries out. “ _PLEASE!_ ” Peter wants to protect Oberon the way he had protected May.  
  
Mysterio hadn’t given Oberon this third option; to let Peter leave. It was a risk Oberon had taken in an attempt to go around Mysterio’s threat, since in both, Peter’s freedom would be taken. The Fae was presented with two choices: claim the name or don’t and suffer the consequences. Thing is, Oberon did not claim Peter’s name. That means Mysterio will still tell all of Winter Court about Peter. Oberon will lose the throne and be shunned from his people forever.  
  
That is why Peter is here. Oberon has to take his name. He simply has to. And now, Peter is more than ready to give it to him. The Fae had sent Peter away to protect him from being taken, but there is nothing he wants more right now then to be taken. By no one other than-  
“OBERON!”  
  
It’s no use. Peter has been walking for hours now, searching the woods for any sign of the Fae. Or any Fae for that matter. He assumes they would’ve already found him by now, but they are nowhere to be seen. He unlocks his phone and swears when he realizes what day it is. The human world and the Fae world are parallel to each other and they only really mingle on the actual Pagan celebrations. It’s no longer Imbolc. The veil is back.  
  
Peter couldn’t find any fairy circles or other signs of passage to their realm in his desperate attempt to locate Oberon, which means there is no way he can find the Fae before the next time Oberon and he were supposed to meet. Ostara. March 21st. Defeated, Peter falls to his knees on the forest floor, clutching his phone against his chest and crying without tears. He had none left. Peter inwardly has to tell himself that he is going to have to go home… And that he is about to face the longest one and half months of his life…  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh oh! Next chapter is gonna be a bit of a wait again! It'll be uploaded on Ostara, March 21st! See you then 👀👀 In the meantime, I'd love to hear your thoughts!!! <3 Thank you for reading this fic! <3
> 
> -Lien

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter is mostly setup for the rest of the fic! There's a lot of good stuff to come!
> 
> Have you figured it out yet? Four more meetings... Four more celebrations... Four more chapters... This fic is going to go with the flow! Just like with this chapter, there will be a teaser poem on during the wait, but every chapter will be posted on the next Pagan celebration. This will be the upload schedule:
> 
> Chapter 2: Yule (December 21st)  
> Chapter 3: Imbolc (February 1st)  
> Chapter 4: Ostara (March 20th)  
> Chapter 5: Beltane (May 1st)
> 
> The wait is long, but it's all with good reason! It will give me the time to do it properly, it'll give me time to work on other fics/one shots in between and I gotta say, it also gives another layer to the artsy-ness. Everything you read happens on the day it's posted!
> 
> I'd love to hear your thoughts and input on this fic! While I do have a set plot I follow, I'm actually very keen on implementing what the readers would like to see! Thank you for your continued support and until the next chapter!
> 
> -Lien


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